


Better with You

by BelleRevolution, Savvy_kaye



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Courfeyrac is actually three years old (not really), Courfeyrac is afraid of doctors, Doctor!Combeferre, M/M, Mutual Pining, Or not, Rally gone wrong, Sickfic, Stabbing, This is NOT in Combeferre's job description, everything bad happens for a reason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelleRevolution/pseuds/BelleRevolution, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savvy_kaye/pseuds/Savvy_kaye
Summary: Out of everything that could have gone wrong, this was possibly the worst.ORCourfeyrac gets stabbed at a rally. Combeferre has to deal with it.





	1. Saving Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is hurt, and Combeferre has to push aside his own fears to put him back together.

The rally had gone sideways really fast. Really it was almost ironic. Enjolras had said it would be safe. It hadn't been. Of course it wasn't their fault. There had been a gang there, independent of Les Amis, who had started a fight. Courfeyrac - the caring soul that he was - had run towards the fight instead of away. He had saved the gang's original victim, but he had found himself facing down five men twice his size, three armed with knives. Bahorel had seen what happened and come running, but he was too late. Courfeyrac was on the ground bleeding from a stab wound in his abdomen. The pain made it hard for him to focus, but he remembered getting loaded into an ambulance and taken to the hospital, but not much else until he was being unloaded from the ambulance. 

The night would not have been completely fine without Courfeyrac showing up. In all honesty, Combeferre thought it would have been better without Courf. That didn’t change the fact that he saw his friend being rushed to an operating room, and then he was being called to that same room, and he took a breath, half running in that direction as well.

He didn’t hear much besides  _ stab wound to the liver _ and a lot of other jargon that was being thrown around the room. This would be fun. Courfeyrac hated doctors. And he was allergic to every kind of anesthetic they had. Ferre closed his eyes and took another breath. This would be very fun.

Maybe if he said it enough times, he would start to believe it.

Blinking his eyes open, Courfeyrac winced. There was pain radiating out from his abdomen in pulses. He curled up - was he in a bed? The last thing he remembered was lying on the street at the rally. As his other senses kicked in he began to realize where he was. A hospital. He felt panic rising up his throat and let out a whimper as he felt tears pricking at his eyes. He needed to get away from here. He started trying to sit up so that he could leave. 

Combeferre held Courfeyrac down with a hand on his chest and smiled at him as best he could. “I’ve got you,” he assured quietly. “You’re gonna get out of here just fine. Just stay awake for me for now, alright, Courf?” He looked over at Courfeyrac’s stomach, bleeding profusely, and he had to let go of him to properly work. “Someone hold him down,” he muttered. “He won’t want to stay still.”

Courfeyrac did not like the sound of that at all. “Ferre? What's going on?” He asked, his voice quiet. He had discovered that he was quite weak - Ferre's hand had been able to keep him in bed. Usually Courfeyrac was stronger than Combeferre. “What's going to sting? Ferre I'm scared what's going on?! Why do I need to stay awake? Ferre I wanna go home I'm scared and it hurts.” He started trying to get out of the bed again as fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins and his fight or flight instinct kicked in - Courfeyrac's brain chose flight.

Combeferre shook his head and took a breath. “I’ll tell you when this is over, okay? Please try and stay still.” He was holding Courfeyrac down again, hoping things weren't as bad as the nurses made it out to be. “I know you’re scared, and I know it hurts, but please stay still or you’ll make it worse. You have to try and listen to me. Okay?” He let one of the assistants hold Courf’s shoulders down so he could start cleaning out the wound. It was the liver; the paramedics hadn’t been wrong about that. Nothing too awful or life-threatening if he could patch things up in a timely fashion. Of course, that didn’t mean Courfeyrac would enjoy this. It would hurt like hell.

Courfeyrac tried to force himself to be still. He was shaking - there wasn't anything he could do about that. But he trusted Ferre, so he tried to do as the other man said. When Ferre started to touch what he had come to understand was some kind of stab wound in his stomach, he screamed. Whatever Combeferre was doing made the pain so much worse. “Ferre . . .” He gasped, trying his best not to pull away from the touch, but failing. 

Combeferre shushed him softly, taking his hands away before he could cause any more pain. “I know, Courf, I know, but we have to get this done or you’ll get an infection.”  _ More likely: you’ll die, _ he added in his head, but he shook the the thought away, waiting for Courfeyrac to settle down a little bit more before he waved somebody else over to keep him still. The last thing he wanted to do was imagine Courfeyrac dead. No more dorky smiles or glitter bombs or anything that made his life that much more exciting. “Just give me half an hour. That’s all I need. I just have to stitch you back up, alright, Courf?”

Courfeyrac stared at Combeferre with big eyes. He didn't understand why this was happening or why everything hurt so much (well some part of him understood why it hurt) and he didn't understand why Ferre couldn't make it stop hurting. Ferre always made everything better - but this time he was making everything hurt more. Courfeyrac was so scared as he tried to process what Combeferre had said. Ferre would never hurt him, right? Ferre knew he was afraid of doctors, right? Courfeyrac's world seemed to be crumbling and everything seemed wrong. 

Combeferre could feel Courfeyrac’s eyes on him, and he didn’t dare look. He kept talking, though. He didn’t really know what he was saying, but he kept talking for Courfeyrac’s sake. Or his own sake. One of the two. Probably both. He felt so guilty, seeing Courf like this, shouting and fighting every time Combeferre tried to get something done.

He was saving Courfeyrac’s life, yes, but he wished it would be easier.

“Courfeyrac, tell me what happened,” he said, when he finished stitching up the liver, taking a moment to breathe and clear his head.

“It hurts. . .” Courfeyrac muttered, and he really had started to cry. He was scared out of his mind and he didn’t know what was going on and he didn’t understand why Combeferre wanted to know what had happened  _ right at this moment.  _ Couldn’t it wait till everything stopped hurting? “I dunno. There some guys with knives. They went after this kid. I stopped them. They stabbed me. I don’t remember anything else.” His phrases were short and they stammered as he muttered and stumbled over the words, the pain making it hard to focus. 

Combeferre nodded and finally gave him a smile. “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. “I’m gonna start stitching you up again. It’ll hurt, but - um - talk to me, Courf. Tell me about how over-the-top Enj gets sometimes.” Distractions. It was a long shot, but it was something. Combeferre hated everything about this, but distractions should help the panicking at least a little bit. “Just a few more minutes,” he mumbled.

“Please don’t, Ferre.” Courfeyrac begged. He did not enjoy the feeling of the needle as it passed through his body. He did not enjoy it at all and he wanted it to stop  _ right now _ . Part of his mind was already thinking about Enjolras though, and his mouth (always ahead of his head) started moving before he was aware of telling it to do so. “I guess . . . Enjolras was giving a speech today and someone yelled something about how LGBT rights are pointless. Enj got really worked up over that. He tried to get the person to come up on the stage so that he could debate with them. You can imagine how that went . . .” Courfeyrac’s mind caught up with his mouth and he fell quiet with a whimper. 

Combeferre took a breath. “You’re doing better than I thought,” he admitted with a chuckle. Humorless, but there nonetheless. “I thought you’d be out by now. Kudos. We should put you up against Bahorel next.” He bit at his lip and tried his best to pretend that this was just another patient, just another person who needed his help to survive, but this was  _ Courfeyrac _ , this was his best friend, somebody he never wanted to be without, and now he would more than likely never want to be in the same room as him. But that didn’t matter. He needed to get this hole closed up. Personal details could wait.

“You said not to go to sleep.” Courfeyrac said quietly. “I was just trying to make you happy.” He winced as something hurt particularly badly. The tears still hadn’t stopped falling and he still didn’t understand why Combeferre wasn’t making everything better. “Ferre . . . I don’t think I can do this anymore. Please stop.” He started to try to pull away from the men holding him still as panic set back in. 

Combeferre shook his head, swallowing hard. “Eyes closed, Courf. Please. Just a few more minutes.” He put one hand near Courfeyrac’s chest, making sure he stayed still, before realizing there was blood on that hand. Both of his hands. Part of the way up his arms. This was a mess. It really was a miracle he was still awake. “I promise I’ll explain when you wake up, okay?”  _ I promise, I promise, I promise _ … that was funny. They both knew he would avoid this like the plague.

There was blood everywhere and there was so much of it . . . and it was  _ his  _ blood. Courfeyrac wanted to scream and run away but he didn’t think he could run away and he didn’t have the energy to scream. Instead he unconsciously admitted a high pitched whining noise that was a combination of his pain and fear. He tried to curl up into a ball but found it hard to move, his body felt heavy and sluggish and suddenly Combeferre’s order to close his eyes seemed like the easiest thing to do, even with the panic attack that he could feel coming. Against his will, his eyes slid shut and he fell unconscious. 

Combeferre sighed and let himself focus now that Courfeyrac wasn’t (knowingly) in pain. He asked one of the assistants to put that drug in his IV, the one that would hopefully have him forget all of this, and he was so wound up he couldn’t remember the name of it. The assistant must have known what he was talking about; she came back quickly enough and did as he asked. That was all he could hope for, really. Something to go right for once.

He tied off the stitches and backed away, letting the assistants deal with bandaging him up and moving him to another room. He tore his gloves off and rubbed at his eyes. Tears. He felt tears. This was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.


	2. For the Sake of Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac wakes up alone and frightened in a hospital. Combeferre Comforts him.

Courfeyrac woke up in pain. He didn’t know where he was and he didn’t understand why there was a sharp pain in his stomach. He blinked his eyes open. A hospital? Why was he in a hospital? Why couldn’t he remember what happened? Panic started to set in and he kicked at the blanket, reaching for the tape on his IV. 

Combeferre opened the door just when Courfeyrac was struggling to get out of bed, and he rushed over to lie Courfeyrac down again. “Please stay still,” he said, checking to make sure his IV was okay. “You’ve had a long day. They should let you out in time for you to sleep in your own bed tonight.” He took a deep breath and went about checking all the monitors Courfeyrac was hooked up to.

“Ferre?” Courfeyrac said, his voice rough. “Ferre what happened? Why am I here?” Combeferre pushing him back into bed did nothing to calm him down and he was trying desperately not to have a panic attack right at that moment. 

Combeferre sat down on his bed and decided to look past him at the wall behind his head. “You got hurt at the rally. Everything’s fine, I promise, but things won’t feel great for a while.” He noted the sudden spike in Courfeyrac’s heart rate and ran a hand through his hair. “Courf, I know it doesn’t make a difference, but nobody’s going to hurt you here. I stopped by to check things over and give you the all-clear to leave. I can let you home, but you have to try and calm down for me.”

“What happened? Why can’t I remember? Ferre, why can’t I remember?” Courfeyrac was not calm at all. In fact he was getting more and more scared as he failed to remember exactly what it was that had happened. It was like a whole block of his memories were missing - he barely remembered the rally. His eyes kept darting around the room and he was having a hard time focusing on the man in front of him - he didn’t know why. “Combeferre whats going on?” 

Combeferre grabbed his hand and caught his eyes. “You’re allergic to anesthetic. We couldn’t use any. We gave you something so you wouldn’t remember it. But everything’s fine now,” he assured, sounding like a broken record now, but he’d stopped caring a while ago. “Hey. You saved a kid’s life at the rally. You remember that?”

Courfeyrac forced himself to focus on Combeferre and hold his gaze. “No.” He said, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Ferre I don’t remember anything and I’m scared. What if my memories don’t come back?” What else could he forget? Would he forget about his friends? Would he forget about Enjolras, and Combeferre? 

“You won’t forget any more than you’ve already forgotten,” Combeferre said, subconsciously reaching over to brush the tears away. He realized what he was doing rather quickly and dropped his hand, silently thanking the stars that it was just the two of them there. He’d never hear the end of it if it wasn’t. “You’ll remember the rally soon enough. It’ll be fuzzy because you were in shock, but it’ll come back. The only thing you won’t remember is… the surgery.” Combeferre paused for a beat, watching Courfeyrac carefully. “Enjolras is waiting to come see you. My shift is done in twenty minutes. You’ll go home today, you’ll sleep this off, and you’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

Courfeyrac went pale when Ferre said ‘surgery’, but he didn’t speak till Ferre had finished, trying desperately to process. “They cut me open Ferre? What was wrong? What happened? Is that why it hurts?” He was so frustrated and scared because he couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t want Combeferre to leave him. Combeferre always made everything better. 

“At the rally, you tried to protect a kid from some… less than desirable people. They stabbed you, and we stitched you up. It wasn’t too major since they got you here relatively quickly, but like I said, we couldn’t put you under because you’re allergic. I’m sure there’s a nurse talking to Enj about this, but they got your liver. Unfortunately, that means no alcohol until it’s healed.”

That was fine. Courfeyrac wasn’t much of a drinker anyways. But Ferre’s words kept swirling around in his head  _ ‘they stabbed you, and we stitched you up. We couldn’t put you under. Stitched you up.’  _ Courfeyrac glanced down at the hospital gown, knowing it covered something he didn’t want to see. He cried harder. 

Combeferre squeezed his hand and shushed him gently. “Hey, hey, you survived. That’s something. You’re okay. You won’t have to look at it if you don’t want to, not until it’s healed. I could change the bandages for you if it really makes you uncomfortable. I promise you’ll be okay. You are okay.” There he went again, throwing out promises he couldn’t keep. He  _ hoped _ Courfeyrac would be okay. He  _ hoped _ Courf was okay. That was all he could do, really.

The nagging voice of reason in the back of his mind was screaming that he had other patients to get to. They could wait. Courfeyrac was terrified. He needed a familiar face.

“Here.” Combeferre found a tissue box on the table beside Courf’s hospital bed. “For the sake of comfort. If that’s possible.”

Courfeyrac nodded along with what Combeferre was saying through his tears. It was all just so much. He took a tissue from the box and wiped his eyes, his tears slowing. He didn’t have anything left to cry. He sniffed. “OK Ferre.” Sniff. “Alright. I’ll be alright.” He didn’t necessarily believe that. He didn’t know what he believed, but he trusted Ferre. Ferre would never lie to him, and Ferre was saying that he would be ok, so it must be true. “Will you come home with me?” He asked softly, after hesitating for a moment. 

Combeferre smiled. “Of course. I have a few more people to check on, and then I’m off the hook until they inevitably call me in at two in the morning. But yeah, I’ll get you settled in.” He stood up and realized he was still holding Courfeyrac’s hand, almost reluctant to let it go. That was probably because Courf was still so sad, so confused, and Combeferre didn’t want to leave him alone. Not yet, at least.

Courfeyrac didn’t want to let go of Combeferre. If he did, he knew his friend would leave and he would have to deal with the hospital alone. He did not want to do that. “Can’t you stay?” He asked. The rational part of him understood that Combeferre had to do his job, but the side that was just coming down off an almost panic attack didn’t care. 

The look on Courf’s face was enough to break Combeferre’s heart. “I have other people I have to see. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Fifteen,” he corrected, checking his watch. “A nurse might get you to help you into a wheelchair, and Enj might end up taking you home, but I’ll be there when I can, alright?” He tried his best to smile, to look reassuring, but he wasn’t sure he pulled it off.

Courfeyrac’s grip on his hand loosened. Combeferre exhaled, mostly relieved, but there was something else there. Regret. Sadness. Something. He wasn’t sure what was going on anymore.

Courfeyrac pouted like a kicked puppy, but he let Combeferre go. “Promise?” He asked, staring into Ferre's eyes. Combeferre never let him down - he didn't even know why he needed to bother making him promise. 

Combeferre nodded and forced another smile. “Yeah. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'd love to hear feedback from you guys! Also, again, if things aren't accurate it's because we think it makes for good fic. Thanks for reading!


	3. The Pain of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre comes home from work and somehow ends up in Courfeyrac's bed (with Courfeyrac's permission, of course).

Getting home hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. Enjolras had brought Courf new clothes, and he had changed into them (mostly) on his own. Stretching in certain ways was a no - it would pull at the stitches and hurt so badly that it brought tears to his eyes. Still, he could walk. That was something. 

Courfeyrac had been released before Combeferre got off his shift, and Enjolras had driven Courfeyrac to the flat the three of them shared, helped Courfeyrac to his room, made sure he was comfortable, and then left him alone to sleep. Courfeyrac’s eyes had fallen shut and his breathing slowed before Enjolras even shut the door. 

Combeferre was let out nearly an hour late, dragging his feet as he walked through the door. He was ready to crash, but then he remembered Courfeyrac, and he decided to kick his shoes off and check on him.

Sleeping. Good.

He meant to leave after that, but he found himself hesitating. Courf was relaxed, for once. Happy, even. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was, and Combeferre blinked himself back to what he was doing. Creeping on his best friend while he slept. That was never a good thing.

Before he could do anything else that was mildly questionable, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Courfeyrac slept for three hours before he woke up screaming. He covered his mouth with his hands, not knowing what had happened. He must have had a nightmare or something. The clock read 3am. He sighed, hoping that he hadn’t woken anyone else up. A worried Ferre or Enj was the last thing he needed. 

He rolled over, trying to get comfortable, and winced. It was going to be a long night. 

Combeferre heard the shouting and immediately jolted out of his half-sleep. It was coming from Courfeyrac’s room. He groaned, wishing he would let it go, praying he could just let it go, let Courf calm down for a moment before he tried to talk to him, but he was on his feet before he could stop himself. He kicked himself mentally,  _ he won’t want to see you, it’s just a nightmare, he’s totally fine, _ but that didn’t change anything.

Thankfully, he remembered to knock on the door before entering Courf’s room. He had some amount of manners, at least.

“You’re okay?” His voice was tired, raw from a lack of sleep. The usual, really, especially when he and Enjolras would stay up until ungodly hours in the morning just to finish one more essay for school. He’d never spoken to Courfeyrac at three A.M., though. This was new.

Courfeyrac blinked his eyes open to see Ferre. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” he mumbled, snuggling deeper into his blankets as if to hide. Combeferre sounded exhausted and annoyed. Courfeyrac felt terrible for waking him. The other man didn’t get enough sleep as it was. It was just a nightmare. Courfeyrac didn’t even remember what it was. He was fine, really. It didn’t matter that it scared Courfeyrac a little that he was having nightmares so bad he woke up screaming, yet he couldn’t remember what they were about. That was fine. Lots of people don’t remember their dreams. 

Combeferre sighed and shook his head. “I wasn't sleeping anyways,” he chuckled. Again with laughing. He never realized he laughed so much. He never realized he laughed so much with no humor behind it. It was a way to fill space, he guessed. Probably not healthy. “Are you sure you’re okay, Courf? You look like a deer in headlights.”

“It’s fine, really. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about.” Courfeyrac muttered. He reached over to his nightstand and turned on the lamp, blinking in the light. “Why weren’t you sleeping? It's the middle of the night.” 

Combeferre shrugged. The honest answer would be  _ I’m afraid to close my eyes; I’ll see you sobbing and screaming and covered in blood. _ The answer he gave was “I’ve been stressed, I guess. Can't get my mind to calm down. You know me.”

Frowning, Courfeyrac ran his eyes ran over Ferre’s face. The other man looked paler than normal, almost pale enough that Courfeyrac was surprised he hadn’t simply passed out from exhaustion. He lifted up the edge of his blankets. “Come sleep with me.” He said, before he realised just  _ what  _ he had said. Oh. Oops. But the invitation was out there now so he offered a smile. He wouldn’t mind it if Combeferre came to bed with him. It would be nice to have his friend close. 

Combeferre blinked, shocked by the invitation, but as soon as he was about to decline, he yawned. He needed sleep. Knowing Courfeyrac was okay would let him sleep. “I… sure,” he mumbled, climbing into bed and closing his eyes. He immediately wished he could stay there forever. Warm, cozy, smelled like Courf…

He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks and he hid his face in the pillow he'd claimed as his own. “Thank you.”

Courfeyrac smiled and turned the light off again. “You’re welcome Ferre.” He said, tempted to snuggle into his friend, but knowing he shouldn’t. Combeferre needed to sleep, and Courfeyrac needed to let him do that, without Courfeyrac’s weird urges distracting him. “‘Night Ferre.” He mumbled and exhaustion took him again and he fell back asleep. 


	4. Broken Trust and Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre takes care of Courfeyrac the day after his surgery. Snuggling ensues.

Combeferre was reluctant to wake up. He’d slept through the night, he had the day off, and he was warm and comfortable underneath so many blankets. He sighed and opened his eyes to squint against the sunlight.

That was weird. The window in his room faced west.

He didn't pay too much attention to it, going to close his eyes again when he felt the bed move. Naturally, he turned to see who was trying to wake him up.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. Combeferre had forgotten all about the night before, from Courfeyrac’s screaming at three in the morning to his quiet offer of sharing a bed. It didn't take long for Combeferre to remember, though, seeing Courf fast asleep next to him. It was the same as the night before; Courfeyrac was calm, relaxed, happy. It was adorable, really. This time there was sunlight.

Sunlight really did make a difference, though. He looked younger now. It made Combeferre smile, and he wanted to brush Courf’s hair away from his face so he could see everything better, so he could see the man he loved—

Combeferre’s heart leapt into his throat, and he jumped at the realization, his face burning. No. That wasn't it. That wasn't true. He was just tired, groggy from going so long without decent sleep. That was why he was thinking something so  _ stupid _ .

He got up to get coffee, something to wake him up, and he turned back to make sure Courf was still sleeping.

Courfeyrac was still adorable. Beautiful, even. Combeferre still felt hopelessly in love. And he was going to be sick.

In his dream, Courfeyrac was with Combeferre. They were walking on the shore together, watching the sunset. Combeferre was saying something over and over again. Courfeyrac couldn’t really understand it. It sounded like Ferre was saying  _ ‘It’s alright’  _ over and over again. Dream-Courfeyrac didn’t know what Ferre would say that, but he was just happy to be with his friend. 

Courfeyrac smiled in his sleep and shifted, his arm falling onto the spot where Combeferre had been lying a moment ago. He shifted again, as if he had expected someone to be there, and his arm pulled in towards his body as if he were curling in on himself due to the lack of the expected person. He woke up slowly as the dream faded, and opened his eyes, looking disappointedly at the spot where Combeferre was not. He sensed the other man’s presence soon enough, and looked up at him. “Morning Ferre.” He said with a lazy smile.

Combeferre smiled back, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Good morning,” he replied. “I was just going to get coffee. Want me to bring you some?”  _ Play it cool _ , he repeated to himself, sounding like a broken record. He shook his head to clear it, fixing his bedhead as best he could in the process (and conveniently hiding his face).

Courfeyrac shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He said, stretching with a wince. He’d forgotten about the stitches. In fact, as yesterday came back to him, he became aware that he wasn’t interested in putting anything in his mouth. He had a feeling he couldn’t keep anything down. 

“No? Can you try a saltine cracker or something for me? Just something small. You’ll feel hungrier after you eat a little bit.” Combeferre kept fidgeting with his hair. “Just try? And if you feel sick, you don't have to eat anything, I promise.”

That was a blatant lie. Courfeyrac needed food. But Combeferre would smile sweetly at him and hope he could make him eat something before he inevitably passed out again.

Making a face, Courfeyrac nodded reluctantly. “Alright fine, Ferre.” He said as he crawled out of bed. Thankfully, he still maintained use of his legs, and he made his way across his room to where Combeferre was standing. “I don’t see why I need to though. I’m not hungry.”

Combeferre laughed and offered his arm if Courfeyrac needed it. “If you take narcotics without food, you throw up. You just damaged all the muscles in your abdomen that potentially assist you in throwing up. Want me to draw a diagram for you?”

Courfeyrac accepted the offered arm. “But I don’t have any narcotics to take?” He asked, confused. He hadn’t taken anything yesterday for the pain. He hadn’t done much of anything yesterday after he got stabbed except cry and sleep though, so that might explain it. Or maybe it had been in the IV. Courfeyrac prefered not to think about that. 

Combeferre led him to the kitchen and had him sit down on one of the bar stools around the island. “Yes on crackers, then?” he asked, looking for the right cupboard. “Maybe some water? Was it you or Enj who doesn't like peanut butter? I'd feel better if you had some protein. Not that you need to; I’d just feel a lot better.” He let himself breathe, mentally kicking himself for rambling. It was going to be a long day.

“Enjolras hates peanut butter. He thinks it's too sticky.” Courfeyrac said with a shrug. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll try and eat some.” Despite his misery, Courfeyrac couldn’t help but admit that Combeferre was kinda cute rummaging around in the cupboards. It was so different from how his best friend normally was. Usually, Combeferre was so orderly and neat and proper. But with his hair a mess and his pajamas rumpled- wait. Where were these thoughts coming from? Since when did Courfeyrac think about his friend like that?

Combeferre grinned triumphantly when he found the crackers and peanut butter. “Take your pick: a spoonful of peanut butter or a few crackers? Or both,” he added as an afterthought, jumping up to sit on the counter. He took a spoon out of the silverware drawer and twirled it around his fingers. Fidgeting. He'd have to work on that.

Courfeyrac sighed and reached for the jar of peanut butter and then the spoon Combeferre was twirling around his fingers. They’re hands brushed for just a moment, and Courfeyrac pulled away before he could blush. He scooped a spoonful of the stuff out of the jar and nibbled at it in an attempt to appease Ferre. 

Combeferre smiled, happy that Courfeyrac would at least try. “You don't have to eat that much,” he offered. “Just some of it. If you really don't want it, don't bother.” He slid down off the counter and found the medication Enj picked up the day before. “Okay. Take one of these. You’ll get really tired, probably like you were last night before you fell asleep the first time. It’ll take half an hour to start working, though. Lasts four to six hours. The second it starts hurting again, tell me. Deal?” He rested his elbows on the counter so he could meet Courfeyrac’s eyes easier.

Sighing, Courfeyrac met Combeferre’s eyes. “Deal.” He didn’t really want to be tired all day. That didn’t sound like fun at all. But the pain wasn’t fun either. He briefly considered palming the medication and then decided that that wasn’t a good option because Ferre would find out, and he would still hurt. He licked the rest of the peanut butter off the spoon before he reached for the bottle, curious if Ferre would trust him with a bottle of highly addictive drugs. Probably not. Combeferre hadn’t let Enjolras keep his own pills the last time he’d been sick.

Combeferre handed the bottle over, watching how many Courfeyrac took and then taking it back when he was done. He got Courf a glass of water and then went looking for coffee. Enjolras must have something against him lately; the coffee was in a different place every morning. He’d normally be ready to kill Enj for it, but this time it was more of a minor inconvenience. Then again, he didn’t have to save someone’s life today until he got called in.

Scratch that; he had to save Courf’s life. Keep saving Courf’s life. Help him get his life back. Something stupid and cliche that made Ferre actually hate himself for a second. He groaned and rubbed at his temples. It was too early for this.

Courfeyrac took one pill as instructed, noting the way that Ferre watched him. When Combeferre handed him the water, he swallowed it and then rested his chin on the counter. When Combeferre groaned, he sat back up. “You ok?” He asked, concerned for his friend. Ferre had a history of overtaxing himself. 

Combeferre nodded. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Enj keeps moving the coffee and it’s pissing me off.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his ratty hair, getting it out of his face, before finally finding coffee and grinning. “And now my life’s problems are solved,” he sang sarcastically. Half sarcastically. All his life’s problems were solved except for Courfeyrac, but that problem came about very recently, and Combeferre was going to do his damndest to ignore it. He ignored things for a living, it seemed. That’s why his job didn’t make him lose his mind.

“Well, I guess that’s good then.” Courfeyrac said with a lazy smile. “I was worried it was something serious like the fact that I neglected to do the dishes last night.” He was already feeling more tired, and it might just have been his imagination, but the pain was fading too. 

Combeferre laughed. He would never get upset with Courf over leaving dishes in the sink - that was a job for their flatmate - but he just shook his head and grinned. “I’ll make Enjolras deal with it later. He’ll probably be antsy after a day of saving the free world while you’re suffering here at home. I’m sure he’ll be happy for something to do.”

“I do have to stay here, don’t I?” Courfeyrac asked with a sigh. He hated being cooped up. The world was so bright and colorful and fun and there was so much to do . . . the flat was nice, lovely really, but it wasn’t the city. Courfeyrac laid his cheek down on the counter and picked at his nails. 

Combeferre sighed. “I mean, I’ll be locked up in here too if you want. I’ve got a dozen books to read, anyways.”  _ And somebody has to make sure you don’t pass out standing up, _ he added in his head, but he let that go. “Want to move to the couch? It’s a bit more comfortable there than the counter, I think.”

Courfeyrac giggled a little and slid off the bar stool to make his way into the living room. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Ferre. I’ll be alright.” He wanted Ferre to stay, of course, for reasons he wasn’t totally ready to admit to himself, but . . . never mind that. He made it to the couch without falling and collapsed onto it in a pile. 

Combeferre laughed and followed Courfeyrac, making sure he was alright. “Want a blanket? A couple pillows?” he suggested, already starting to make his way down the hall to Courf’s room. He hesitated, though, still waiting for a response before he left. A responsible friend, maybe. Something like that.

Courfeyrac really needed to stop grinning up at him like that. It made his heart physically ache.

Courfeyrac had made himself as comfortable as he could on the end of the couch that he had claimed, but he nodded anyways. “Sure.” He said with a yawn. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. His smile was still on his face as he looked at Combeferre, his best friend, the man he trusted with his life. The man he loved. Oh. 

Combeferre hurried off as soon as he got the confirmation he was looking for, finding a fuzzy blanket at the foot of Courf’s bed as well as one of his pillows before he stopped by his own room to grab a book to read. He didn’t even bother looking at it. It was the first one on the shelf, so it had to be good to some extent, he would hope.

He did look down at the cover on his way back to the living room. Shakespeare’s  _ Hamlet. _ Not the worst choice in the world.

Courf was (surprisingly) still awake, picking at his fingernails again. Combeferre set the blanket and pillow down and tapped his friend’s hands with the book. “You’ve got the worst habits,” he muttered. “Need help getting situated? Or are you somehow awake enough to handle that?”

Reaching for the blanket and pillow, Courfeyrac fell forwards. Maybe he wasn’t as awake as he had thought he was. “Could use a hand.” He mumbled sleepily. 

Combeferre bit back laughter and helped Courfeyrac back up. “Here, just lift your head a little… there. Comfy?” he asked, adjusting the blanket so Courfeyrac wouldn’t freeze to death. Not that it was cold. But Combeferre still had to worry. That was his job, the one he didn’t get paid enough to do.

Courfeyrac was smiling again. That was payment enough. Combeferre his his blush behind his hair and turned to Shakespeare.

“Yeah.” Courfeyrac said with a few happy blinks. He felt like he had his own little cocoon and with Combeferre next to him, he felt very safe. “Read to me, Ferre? Just till I’m asleep?” His request was quiet as exhaustion overtook him. 

Combeferre laughed and started from the beginning, changing his voice as he read each line. It was honestly kind of fun, reading this out loud. He’d read it dozens of times before, sure, but he was always happy to read it again. He could have sworn he saw Courf smile when the ghost showed up. (“ _ Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again! _ ”)

Of course, Courfeyrac was out soon after that. Combeferre fell silent and continued to read to himself, trying to find a decent enough distraction from the man beside him. This was getting ridiculous.

In any case, he had four hours to kill. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and settled down for the next four acts.

Courfeyrac woke suddenly five hours later with a cold sweat on his brow and panic clawing its way up his throat. He tried to curl up like he normally did when he panicked, and gasped in pain as the stitches pulled hard enough that he swore some ripped. All of the pieces of his missing memory fell into place at once. He remembered. He remembered the rally and the ambulance and . . . And the hospital and the screaming. And the pain, and Ferre, covered in blood. Courfeyrac had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. 

“Courfeyrac?” Combeferre reached over to grab Courf’s hands, to give him something real to hold on to. “Courf, please look at me. Whatever you dreamed about, it's just a dream. Okay? None of it’s real. Courf I  _ promise _ none of it’s real.” Promises. Empty promises. Isn't that how friendships were destroyed in the end? He didn't really care at this point, though, simply trying to get Courfeyrac’s breathing to even out. It couldn't feel good to be breathing heavily with those stitches.

Courfeyrac did not calm down at all. In fact Combeferre's actions made it worse. So much worse. Words were difficult right then but he managed to stutter out what mattered. “Combeferre. I remember.” 

Combeferre dropped Courfeyrac’s hands and stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if he heard him right at first.  _ I remember _ . He wanted to shake Courf out of it, to insist he didn't remember, to shout at him that yes he had a nightmare because  _ this always happens for months after you stay in a hospital, Courf, don't be stupid, stop scaring me, you’re fine. I gave you the right drugs to deal with that. You're fine. _

He forced himself calm (calmer than normal) and asked if Courfeyrac needed anything. A stupid question, sure, but he'd been trained to stop somebody from bleeding out. Panic attacks were that little asterisk at the end of his job description, one he hardly had to pay attention to. Courf never got like this. This was new. This was terrifying.

“No! No Combeferre I remember!” Courfeyrac was crying and he had curled in on himself. He could tell that Ferre didn't believe him. He was still fighting with his panic attack, still fighting with himself. His instinct was winning. He didn't understand how Ferre could be so calm. Courfeyrac  _ remembered _ and he wanted to scream.

“Courfeyrac.” Combeferre went to put a hand on his shoulder, on his wrist,  _ somewhere _ ,  but that wasn’t a good idea. That was a terrible idea. They held him down. “Courf, I know, I know you remember, and that should never have happened.” His voice broke. He was crying? Already? He wiped the tears off his face and told himself to breathe for a minute. Half a minute. He didn’t have a minute to breathe. He did fight his better judgement, though, putting his hands on Courfeyrac’s shoulders so he wouldn’t hurt anything. Sitting like that wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. It would only hurt him worse.

Courfeyrac jerked away from the touch, crying out when it pulled the stitches again. He didn’t know what to do or what to say and he wanted to cry and scream and there were so many emotions that he  _ didn’t know what to do with them!  _

He cried harder. Everything was so confusing. Why had Combeferre hurt him?

Combeferre gave Courfeyrac a minute, two, three, before he spoke. “Courf, listen to me. Please. You can’t keep doing that. You have to stay still. Move slowly. You’ll tear your stitches.” He sighed. “Courfeyrac. Can you talk to me? Please? I won’t touch you again if you at least sit so you won’t get hurt.” He paused again, opened his mouth to speak more, thought better of it and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Shaking, Courfeyrac rearranged himself slowly so that he wasn’t in a position to pull the stitches. He started at Combeferre with unblinking eyes while he did so, silent tears making their tracks down his face. He didn’t know what to say. 

Finally, he spoke, unsure of his words but the silence would drive him mad. “Why did you lie to me?” He asked softly. He wanted to fidget but Combeferre would touch him again if he did that so he resisted the urge, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around himself instead. 

If Combeferre’s heart hadn’t already shattered, it did now. “I… I didn’t know I was lying,” he said. “Courf, I swear to you I didn’t know. This shouldn’t have happened.” He was rambling now, a broken record, and he shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He was so lost. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. This wasn’t normal for him. He was so confused.

“How could you not know?!” Courfeyrac’s voice was loud (his throat was to raw to really shout, but this was the loudest he had been since he got stabbed). “How could you not know that you were lying? I’m assuming you ordered whatever drug they gave me to make me forget?” He didn’t know what else to say or do. He wanted to curl up and cry for a year. 

Combeferre didn’t even respond. He just shook his head, not looking at Courfeyrac. He’d panicked. Couldn’t remember the name of what he needed. The surgical assistant gave Courfeyrac something, and it worked for a while, but it wasn’t enough. It must not have been enough. He never did specify the amount, did he?

He shook his head again and sighed, more tears burning at his eyes. He didn’t look at Courfeyrac. He couldn’t.

Courfeyrac couldn’t believe that Combeferre was shaking his head. There was no way anyone else had ordered the drug because Combeferre had been the surgeon. Courfeyrac  _ remembered _ . He shook his head at the man sitting next to him as more tears (these ones were from the terrible ache of betrayal in his heart) ran down his face. “Ferre . . .” He said softly, not sure where he was going with the sentence. He let his words fall off. He didn’t have anything to say. 

“I messed up, and that’s on me.” Combeferre tried to even out his breathing. “That’s it.”

But Combeferre  _ never  _ messed up. Combeferre was supposed to make things better, not worse! Courfeyrac sniffed and wiped at his face with the palms of his hands. Courfeyrac couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. It just didn’t fit in with the logic. He tried again with that sentence that had escaped him before. “Ferre I . . .” The words weren’t coming. He didn’t know what to say to make this better. Courfeyrac was usually so eloquent with words, but they had all left him. 

“I don’t know what I can do, but when I figure it out, I’ll fix this.” Combeferre bit back his habitual  _ I promise _ and finally looked up at Courfeyrac. He saw tears. No, he saw Courfeyrac’s hands hiding his tears. He hated seeing Courfeyrac like that, so sad and helpless and confused, and he felt sick. “Courf, I’m going to fix this,” he insisted, more for himself than for Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac didn’t understand how Ferre could possibly fix this, but he managed a tiny nod. “No more lying?” He asked, taking his hands away from his face so that he could look at Combeferre properly. The other man looked upset, and Courfeyrac felt bad for a moment. He hadn’t meant to hurt Ferre. 

“No more lying,” Combeferre promised. He smiled slightly. “I could sit here and have these deep conversations all day, but you need to eat something, and you pulled at your stitches. Want to try Tylenol? Or do you think that won’t be enough?”

Courfeyrac hadn’t really noticed the pain because his mind was dealing with a thousand other things, but now that Ferre had brought it up, he winced. It did hurt, a lot. But Courf was not interested in another five hour nap. “Tylenol is fine. Do I really have to eat?” He still wasn’t hungry. It was probably the pain. 

“Not for Tylenol, no. You don’t have to eat until you’re hungry.” Combeferre got up to get what he needed. “Don’t expect me to let you walk anywhere. You put a lot of stress on your abdomen just now. I’ll just have to carry you,” he muttered, feigning annoyance more for his sake than Courfeyrac’s. Break the tension. Something like that. “You need anything else while I’m up?”

“I’m fine thanks,” Courfeyrac said with a half smile. “And I am  _ perfectly  _ capable of walking!” He protested indignantly, trying to stand up and prove Combeferre wrong. 

Before Courfeyrac could fall, Combeferre was there to catch him, biting back laughter. “Yeah. Perfectly capable,” he repeated with a grin, helping him straighten up a little bit. Courfeyrac looked upset, and he had good reason, but it was really cute, how he pouted and halfheartedly glared up at Combeferre. It was making him laugh and shake his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Please sit down, Courf. I won’t always be close enough to catch you when you try and be a hero, okay?”

Courfeyrac stuck his lip out, but he sat back down. It seemed that standing and walking would have to wait. “Fine.” Ferre was kind of adorable when he was worried, and Courfeyrac had to think about other things to distract himself. He could blush when Combeferre had left the room. “When  _ can  _ I walk again?” He asked. 

Combeferre shrugged. “When you don’t fall over every time you stand up.” He handed Courfeyrac a couple of pills and a glass of water. “Here. Don’t cry to me if you feel sick.”

“You said I didn't need to eat to take this.” He pointed out before swallowing the pills. He settled back into the couch, drawing his knees to his chest before he remembered that he wasn't allowed to sit like that. He winced. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Combeferre didn’t miss Courfeyrac’s flinching. “You really don’t need anything else?”

“. . . Hurts.” Courfeyrac muttered, but the thought of eating so he can take something stronger made him nauseous. 

Combeferre sighed. “You can try and take something stronger. It won’t mess with what you just took. I don’t know if you’ll get sick or not; we can test your luck if you want. Or you could lie down, and we can ice it for a while. Get the swelling to go down and maybe numb it up a little bit. Pick your poison.”

“Let's try the ice.” Courfeyrac mutters, his head falling backwards to hit the couch’s back. 

“Then you’ve got to properly lie down for me, Courf. The ice won’t stay put if you don’t.” Combeferre left for the kitchen again and came back with a bag of ice and a hand towel, “You want to put it where you need, or will you let me?”

While Combeferre was in the kitchen, Courfeyrac had arranged himself so that he was lying down. He sighed. Finding where the ice belonged sounded like a lot of work. “You can.” He said softly. 

Combeferre wrapped the bag of ice in the towel and gingerly moved Courfeyrac’s shirt so he could see the wound a little bit better. “We should change your bandages at some point,” he mumbled, putting the ice over the stitches. “It doesn’t look bad, though.”  _ Surprisingly _ , he thought, but he didn’t say that aloud. “You going to be okay for a while? Want me to put on a movie?”

“Sure.” Courfeyrac couldn’t do much anyways, and he could use a distraction. He shifted a little bit, managing not to dislodge the ice, and smiled a tiny smile at Combeferre. “Thank you.” 

There was that smile again. Combeferre could have melted. “Yeah. Not a problem. Any movie in particular? A Harry Potter marathon?” he suggested with a grin.

“Yeah sure. Harry Potter sounds nice.” Courfeyrac could feel the pain lessening and he wanted Combeferre to come cuddle- what? No. Courfeyrac pushed that thought out of his head. 

Combeferre put the movie in and sat down in front of the couch, picking up a book on the coffee table. He took part of Courfeyrac’s blanket and draped it over his shoulders - it was freezing, and there was no way Courfeyrac needed all of it. “Take a nap. You’ll heal faster if you sleep.”

Courfeyrac was glad to have Ferre under the blanket with him. It really was very cold. “I'm not tired!” He protested “I slept all morning!”

“I give you half an hour,” Combeferre teased. “You’ll be out in half an hour. It takes a lot of energy to heal up something like that.” He checked the time on his watch and settled down to read. “We’ll have to take the ice off in twenty minutes. We don’t want you to get an ice burn or anything.”

“Do we have to? The ice feels nice and it's making it hurt less.” Courfeyrac yawned and then rolled his eyes. He didn't want to prove Ferre right by passing out. 

Combeferre laughed when he heard Courf yawn. “Yes, we do have to. Twenty on, ten off. That's what keeps swelling down without irritating your skin too much. Just go to sleep; I’ll take care of it if I have to.”

“Alright Ferre.” Courf let his eyes fall shut and in just a few minutes he had fallen fast asleep despite his best efforts.

Combeferre smiled when he heard Courfeyrac’s breathing slow down. He almost wished he made a bet on that. Not that he needed the money; it would probably go into funding whatever cause Enjolras decided to focus on that week.

He rested his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and wishing he could sleep as well. He was too wound up, too antsy. He went to pick at his fingernails - when had he turned into Courfeyrac? - and ended up biting off a hangnail before he went back to his book. Maybe he could calm down enough to take a nap. That was a nice thought.

Courfeyrac slept for maybe an hour before he woke up shivering. He didn't understand why it was  _ so cold  _ in the flat. He drew his arms up around himself, wishing for approximately ten more blankets. The Tylenol had kicked in at least. The pain in his stomach was less than it had been before. 

Combeferre glanced back at him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” He smiled for a moment before noticing how flushed Courf’s face was. “Are you okay?”

Courfeyrac tried to snuggle deeper into the couch. “W-why is it-t-t so c-c-cold?” He asked, still shaking. 

Combeferre put the inside of his wrist against Courfeyrac’s head. “You’re burning up. Do you feel sick?” He brushed Courfeyrac’s hair away from his face, taking advantage of where he was. “I can go and get you some more blankets, okay?”

In response, Courfeyrac just nodded and then buried his face in the couch. He did not feel good. He was freezing and shaking and miserable.

Combeferre sighed and went to get more blankets, this time from his room. He had enough to go around for the time being. Courfeyrac would hate him for it, but he should get him some ibuprofen, too. That could take his fever down at least a few degrees, and he wasn’t going to take narcotics, anyways. Might as well drug him up even more than he already was.

When he got back to the living room, Courfeyrac had his face buried in his pillow, looking absolutely miserable. Ferre chuckled and knelt down beside him. “Hey. Two more pills for you, and then you’re going to sleep. Deal?”

Courfeyrac groaned. “That's not how deals work, Ferre. That's called being bossy.” He turned onto his side to look at the other man. “Did you get more blankets? It’s still freezing in here.” Courfeyrac was still shivering from the cold. 

“Yeah, I got blankets.” Combeferre piled them on top of Courfeyrac, then made sure he would actually be comfortable. He handed Courf two ibuprofen as well, practically dragging him to a sitting position. “They’ll help with the pain, and your fever might go away,” he explained when Courfeyrac whined and made a face.

Courfeyrac sighed and took the pills once he was certain Ferre would have it no other way. “How’d I get a fever?” He asked sleepily. 

Combeferre blinked. “You had surgery yesterday. Your immune system’s a little bit preoccupied. I mean, yeah, you could be fighting off all kinds of different illnesses and viruses and whatever if you want, but then you’d take decades to heal--”

“Ferrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre.” Courfeyrac interrupted. “I’m still cold. Come snuggle with me. You’re warm.” 

Combeferre lost his train of thought completely. “I… You…  _ What? _ ” He stared for a minute, but then Courf looked so sad, so cold, and Ferre shook his head and rubbed his temples. “Alright, alright. Move over.”

Courfeyrac was more than happy to oblige, carefully moving over so there was a little more room on the couch. “Thank you.” He said with a tiny smile, still shaking. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Combeferre bit back a smile, closing his eyes. He could fall asleep there. Courfeyrac still had a fever, and he was still burning up, but Combeferre was happy to hug him tightly and hide his face in his hair.

Courfeyrac settled into Ferre, relishing in the heat that Ferre brought, but also in his best friends embrace. He let his eyes flutter shut and he fell asleep soon after, the shaking having finally stopped. 

Combeferre stayed awake for a while, making sure Courf wouldn’t wake up too soon this time. He tried to stay awake longer - he really did - but he was out within fifteen minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this one is a lot longer than the last one! Please give us feedback, we'd love to know what you think!


	5. Healing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Courfeyrac thought it was a good idea to shower on his own. It was not.

Courfeyrac slept a long time. When he woke up, Combeferre was gone. He whined, and when it didn’t summon Ferre, he sighed. The fever might have broken, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t shaking anymore. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, and whimpered. The meds had all worn off and everything hurt. He didn’t know where Combeferre was, and Combeferre would have put the medicine away. Plus, Courfeyrac still wasn’t hungry. So even if he could get them, narcotics were out. 

Maybe a shower would help get rid of the gross feeling that clung to him. He stumbled to his feet and made it two steps before he fell over, catching himself on the coffee table. Considering his options, he decided to crawl to the bathroom. 

He considered removing his clothes, but that didn’t seem particularly important right at the moment, so he crawled into the bathtub and gave the shower curtain a half hearted tug. Good enough. He turned the shower on and winced as the cold water rushed over him, and then sighing in relief as it warmed up. 

“Courfeyrac, what the  _ hell _ are you doing?” Combeferre was standing in the doorway, half-drying his hair before he hung the towel back up again. He was laughing, not necessarily upset, but Courf looked so confused. “Here, no, just get a bath going. Don’t try and shower. That’s bad things waiting to happen.” He sat down next to the bathtub and reached over to flip the lever so the tub could fill up with water. “And you’re going to scald yourself to death,” he muttered, turning the temperature down a little. “Okay?”

Blinking up at Combeferre, Courfeyrac smiled sheepishly. “I just wanted to shower.” He looked down. “. . . I forgot to take my clothes off.” He reached over and turned the water back up. “I’m cold!” He said. “This feels nice.” 

“You’ll boil yourself alive,” Ferre laughed. “Here, arms up.” He pulled Courf’s shirt up and over his head and threw it in the general direction of the hamper. While Courfeyrac was distracted, he turned the water back down to a normal temperature.

“Will not.” Courfeyrac grumbled, but he didn’t turn the water back up even when he noticed the temperature had gone down. He laid back in the water and splashed it at Ferre. He found the soap and rubbed it between his hands to make it lather, and then set about cleaning himself and a rather clumsy manner. He was washing the soap off when he noticed a trail of red in the water. He pulled away from it, causing the water to splash, but it followed him. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay Courf.” Combeferre jumped back so he wouldn’t be splashed again. “That’s old blood. It’s probably scabbed over already. You’re okay.”

Courfeyrac whimpered, but went back to washing the soap off. The heat had helped temporarily with the pain, but now the wound stung. He finished and undid the drain so that the tub would empty. 

Combeferre draped a towel around his shoulders. “I’m gonna go get you a change of clothes, okay?” He got to his feet and went to Courfeyrac’s room to grab what he needed. Pajama pants, a comfortable shirt, a sweatshirt, underwear, and socks.

Of course, when he got back, he found Courfeyrac on the floor. He really should have seen that coming.

Courfeyrac was frowning. He wasn’t sure quite how he had ended up on the floor, but now his rear end stung and he felt thoroughly shaken up. He had been getting out of the tub . . . and he had fallen. At some point, something had gone wrong, and now he was on the floor. Oh well. At least he hadn’t really hurt himself.  

“C’mon, Courf, get up.” Combeferre laughed and helped Courfeyrac sit up, and he worked at drying him off a little bit better. “I thought you would get some common sense while you’re sick.”

“I’ve got lots of common sense!” Courfeyrac protested. “I just slipped, or tripped, or . . . something.” He claimed the towel from Ferre and started drying himself off, frowning when he got to the bandage that covered part of his stomach. 

Combeferre bit back a chuckle and tossed him his clothes. “Here. They’re warm and dry, just for you. Actually…” He sat down in front of Courfeyrac and moved his arms so he could see where the bandage was beginning to peel. “We should change that. Then get you more meds because that bruising does not look comfortable at all.”

Sighing, Courfeyrac allowed Combeferre to look at the wound. “Do I have to?” He asked with a sigh. It hurt, sure, but he was still a little nauseous and eating didn’t sound fun. 

“If you’re doing okay without narcotics, you don’t have to take those. But we really do need to get you clean bandages.”  _ Unless you want to end up in the hospital again, _ he wanted to add, but Courfeyrac already looked anxious about it. He didn’t need to make things worse.

“Alright.” Courfeyrac wasn’t really ok. The wound had started pulsing again and he didn’t particularly want Combeferre touching it. But he knew his friend would insist so he looked to Combeferre for instructions. 

Combeferre meant to find the edge of the bandage and start to peel it off, but as soon as his fingers brushed Courf’s stitches, Courfeyrac hissed in pain. Combeferre rolled his eyes and stood up. “You are taking narcotics. You don’t get to fight me on this one. I’ll let you choose what you eat, but that’s all you’re getting because for God’s sake, Courfeyrac, this is ridiculous. You’re hurt, and we have something to fix it. Got that?”

“. . . Yes.” Courfeyrac could tell that Ferre wasn’t going to let this go. He pondered for a minute, because he really didn’t want to throw up and the thought of putting something in his mouth made him want to gag. “Do we have fruit?” He asked eventually. 

“Apples, grapes,  strawberries… pick your poison.” Combeferre was relieved Courfeyrac didn’t fight him on it. “We’ve probably got more, but I haven’t checked since last week.”

“Strawberries.” Courfeyrac said at last. He made a face at Ferre, to show that he wasn’t happy about this at all. 

Combeferre made a face back, helping Courf to his feet. “Don’t look at me like that. You owe me your life.”

Courfeyrac swayed a little, but managed to stay standing. “I know, Combeferre. Don’t worry. I won’t forget. I’ll never forget, and I know I can never repay it.” He had gone deadly serious, and he looked sorrowful. 

Combeferre held his arm and led him to the kitchen, sitting him down in a chair and looking around for strawberries in the fridge. “I’m not asking for you to repay it,” he said. “I’m asking you to take your medication.” He set the carton of strawberries in front of Courfeyrac. “I’m just asking for one. Okay?”

“Okay.” Courfeyrac picked one up and took a bite, forced himself the chew and swallow. It took him a few minutes, but he ate the entire thing. “Happy?” He asked Combeferre, showing his red stained fingertips as proof that he had indeed eaten it.

“Very,” Combeferre smiled. He set one of the narcotics down in front of him with a glass of water. “Take that, then I’ll deal with the bandages, and then we’ll get you into something actually dry. Sound good?”

“No.” Courfeyrac muttered under his breath. He was tired of sleeping and tired to being tired and tired of all of this. But he took the pill anyways, chasing it with the water. 

Combeferre rolled his eyes again and found the first aid kit they kept under the sink. “I know, your life’s terrible because of me. Sit up a little more. Unless you would rather lie down,” he added as an afterthought.

Courfeyrac sat up and immediately winced as the stitches pulled. “You’re the best thing in my life.”  _ WHAT?  _ He blinked. “Sorry. Can I lie down?” He hated feeling helpless but straightening up was uncomfortable. 

Combeferre blinked, surprised for a second before he pulled himself together and smiled. “I could say the same to you,” he laughed. “Back to the couch? Then you won’t have to move around anymore.”

Courfeyrac was elated by Combeferre’s reciprocation of his words. Maybe it was just the drugs, but he blushed. “Enjolras will kill me if I get the furniture wet.” He pointed out. 

Combeferre shook his head and laughed again. “Yeah, okay, fine. Here, two seconds.” He went to find where he left the clothes he’d gotten earlier - in the bathroom on the floor - and threw them onto the table. “You need my help with this too, or are you okay on your own?” he asked. Courfeyrac was already looking a little bit dazed.

Courfeyrac blinked. He did not need help changing. He was an adult. He could change his clothes. “. . .Mmm. I’ll be fine.” He said, almost hesitantly. He didn’t want to burden Combeferre, and he really wasn’t interested in being naked in front of his best friend. 

Combeferre sat down and watched Courfeyrac struggle for a second before sighing. “Yeah. You’ll be fine,” he repeated. “You’re still sure about that?”

“No.” Courfeyrac sulked. He was already out of his shirt and he had managed to get his pants down to his knees, but bending over to get them off the rest of the way was painful and made him feel like he was going to fall over. 

Combeferre bit back a laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.” He tugged Courfeyrac’s pants off the rest of the way. “Was that so hard?” he asked, helping Courfeyrac into a clean shirt.

Wiggling into the shirt, Courfeyrac frowned. “Yeah well . . .” He blushed, and this time it wasn’t because he was in love. He bit his lower lip, wondering how to phrase this. 

“I know, I’m bruising your poor ego.” Combeferre got to his feet and held out his hand. “That shirt looks a few sizes too big. Just stand up; you’ll be fine. It’s like you keep forgetting what I do for a living.”

Courfeyrac reluctantly took Combeferre’s hand and stood to his feet, the narcotics were really kicking in and he swayed a little. “You’re a surgeon Ferre. This is not what you do for a living.” His words were slowing down and he still felt the hot flush on his cheeks.  

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Ferre said. “Just hold on to something other than me so you won’t fall over or something.”

Courfeyrac’s hands found the countertop, and he did as instructed, looking anywhere other than Combeferre. He wished he hadn’t decided on an impromptu bath but he did feel better so . . .. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. 

Combeferre was quick about it, if anything. He was done in a minute, maybe a little longer because of how slow Courfeyrac was in moving his legs. But he was in clean underwear and pajama pants soon enough, and Combeferre bit back laughter at Courf’s blushing. “Painless,” he said with a grin. Courfeyrac was awfully adorable though, flustered and embarrassed. It was kind of hilarious. “Here, can you walk to the couch or do you want me to  carry you?”

“Thank you Combeferre.” Courfeyrac said softly, still flushed pink. He took a step, still holding onto the counter, and almost face planted. “I . . . might need some help.” He admitted. 

Combeferre laughed again. “Here, let me. Put one arm around my shoulders - yeah, like that - and then don’t move.” He picked Courfeyrac up easily, almost surprised at how little he weighed, but it wasn’t really a problem. It was interesting, actually, being so close to Courfeyrac, but this time it was on his own terms. Something like that.

He laid Courf down on the couch and adjusted his shirt so he could see the peeling bandage. “Okay. You want me to just rip it off like a band-aid? Or would you actually hate me if I did that?”

Courfeyrac looked at Combeferre with sleepy but mistrusting eyes. “I would never hate-”

Combeferre tore the bandage off then, cutting him off, and he balled it up and tossed it someplace he’d never find it. “Sorry.” No, he wasn’t, but he would never admit that to Courfeyrac, not when he was glaring daggers at him. Well, the daggers were implied; the narcotics were finally doing their job. “You stay. I’ll be right back.” He went to get the first aid kit and then sat down by the couch so he could start to clean up the scar. “Not bad at all,” he mumbled.

Courfeyrac yelped when Combeferre tore of the bandage, the abused and bruised skin protesting. “Oww, Ferre.” Courfeyrac whined. He didn’t have the energy to do more. When Ferre ordered him to stay he almost laughed. “Yeah . . . I’m totally going to walk away . . .” He muttered sarcastically. 

“Knowing you, you’d try,” Combeferre said flatly. “It’s looking good though. All things considered,” he added, covering the stitches back up. “Anything else you need before I go to bed? I’ve got work tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”

“I’m fine.” Courfeyrac said. “These are your blankets. Aren’t you going to be cold?” His words really were starting to slur together and he was forcing himself to converse. 

Combeferre shrugged. “If you need them, keep them. I’ll find a way to survive.” He wanted to sleep next to Courf again. Like the night before. He knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep at all, not with those screams echoing in his ears every time he closed his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”

Courfeyrac snagged Combeferre’s hand. “I have a better idea.” He said with a hint of a mischievous smile. “Let's get all the blankets and go sleep in my bed together. That will be much nicer.” 

Combeferre blushed and helped Courfeyrac to his feet again, mostly because he was already trying to stand. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you’d like. If you can walk there, you can sleep there.” He kept an arm around Courf’s waist though, keeping him steady, and he grabbed some of the blankets with his other hand. “Go on.”

Courfeyrac started shuffling towards his room, one of the blankets still clutched to his chest. Maybe he had been wrong, and Combeferre didn’t want to sleep with him. “You don’t . . . you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” He managed. He got to the kitchen before he tripped, and he was happy to say that he caught himself. 

Ferre chuckled and followed Courfeyrac. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t want to stay,” he said. “Promise.”

“Alright.” Courfeyrac nodded. That logic made sense to him. He made it to his bed, finally (he didn’t remember the walk being so terribly long) and collapsed on it. 

Combeferre climbed into bed a little more gracefully, curling up and smiling at Courf. “Sleep tight.”

Courfeyrac was almost asleep, but he snuggled into Combeferre unconsciously and muttered a soft “Night,” before he fell asleep. 


	6. Before It Gets Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre leaves Courfeyrac alone while he goes to work. It doesn't end well.

As always, work was stressful. Combeferre couldn't wait to get home, shower, and sleep. He'd skip dinner. He was too exhausted.

He walked into his flat—their flat— _whatever_ —and kicked his shoes off. “Anyone home?” He called half heartedly, hoping Enjolras was gone and Courfeyrac was asleep.

Courfeyrac had slept through most of the day. He had woken up to find Combeferre gone - no surprise there - and gone back to sleep. Sometime after noon he had woken up miserable. His whole body ached, the pain radiating out from the wound in his stomach. He dragged himself into the kitchen, looking for Combeferre, or Enjolras, or even just his medication.

Enjolras had found him curled up on the floor and forced him to eat before he would give him the narcotics. Courfeyrac was in so much pain that he had complied, but halfway through the soup that Enjolras had handed him, his stomach had turned on him.

So now he was lying on the floor of the bathroom, praying that he wouldn't throw up _again_.

Combeferre didn't get a response. Half of him was relieved, but the rest of him was nervous. There was usually a _hello_ from someone when he came home. Now the flat was silent.

He hung up his jacket and went searching for his flatmates. Enjolras was nowhere to be found. Courfeyrac was also nowhere to be found.

Combeferre closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Enjolras might not wake up tomorrow.

Thankfully, he found Courfeyrac in the bathroom. “You’re not okay,” he said, kneeling down beside him to help him sit up.

“No I don't wanna sit up.” Courfeyrac protested, slumping back over. “Don't feel good.” He had his arms wrapped around his stomach and there were tear tracks down his face.

Combeferre sighed. “I can see that. Can we at least get you someplace more comfortable than the floor?”

“Don’t wanna move.” Courfeyrac muttered. “. . . ‘jolras made me eat.”

“Well apparently Enjolras decided it would be a good idea to leave you here alone.” Combeferre sighed and picked Courf up, not waiting for his permission. “Let’s just get you to bed, okay, Courf?”

Courfeyrac whimpered when Combeferre picked him up. “Ferre it hurts really bad.” He was crying again, and clung to Combeferre weakly.

Combeferre shushed him and laid him down on the bed. “Hey, it’s okay.” He ran his hand through Courfeyrac’s hair. “I can get you ice. That worked before, didn't it? Do you want to try your hand at narcotics or just Tylenol?”

“Yeah.” Courfeyrac said softly. He had curled up around the wound as if that would reduce the pain. It wasn't helping. Courfeyrac didn't understand what had happened to make it so much worse, but it was _so much worse_.

Combeferre stayed where he was for a second, making sure Courfeyrac wouldn't get sick again so quickly, and he untangled his fingers and went to get a bag of ice and a towel like before. “You’ve gotta lay down flat for me,” he said softly. “Otherwise I can't put the ice where it hurts. Okay?” He was still messing with Courf’s hair, ratty and damp with sweat, but he didn't care.

It took him a great deal of effort, but Courfeyrac managed to get himself into the position Combeferre wanted. Courf just wanted everything to stop hurting at this point. It didn't matter how that came to be.

Combeferre made sure he was alright again—no, he wasn't okay, he might not be okay for a while—he more or less waited until Courf wouldn't move again. Then he went off to grab water and Tylenol. He didn't trust Courf’s stomach yet, but he could at least drink more water and take something for the pain.

He sat down on the edge of Courfeyrac’s bed and handed him the pills. “Sit up a little. Like, up on your elbows—yeah, like that. Drink this.”

Courfeyrac swallowed the medicine and the water before collapsing back onto the bed. “Ferre . . . Why's it hurt so bad?” He asked weakly, wondering what he had done wrong.

“That’s Enjolras’s fault. He made you eat, and that made you sick.” Combeferre checked Courfeyrac’s bandages, exhaling when he didn't see any new blood there. “Just try to relax for now, Courf. Try to sleep. Please.” He yawned, hiding it behind his arm. “I’ll stay, if you want. I’ll have to leave early, though. I’m on call all morning.” _And we all know that means I'll be called in right away._

Courfeyrac nodded, though it was faint. “Stay. But you gotta sleep too.” He mumbled. There was a pause, before he muttered “Dunno where Enj went. He was mad at me I think.”

“I don't think he could ever be mad at you,” Combeferre assured. “I still need to shower, though. If I promise to come back in fifteen, can I at least do that?”

“Mhmm” Courfeyrac had closed his eyes and was trying to focus on his breathing as a distraction of sorts.

Combeferre smiled and left to shower—10 minutes; a new record for him—and when he came back, Courfeyrac was at least breathing slower and more evenly than before. Ferre took that as a good sign, a wonderful sign, _thank God he’s finally sleeping_ , and he did his best to not wake him up by getting into bed. He took the ice off of Courfeyrac’s stomach and dropped it in the floor. They’d deal with that later. He’d deal with that later. Something.

Ferre put an arm around Courf and closed his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Courfeyrac.”


	7. If You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is still half asleep when he confesses his feelings to Combeferre. Combeferre is more than happy to reciprocate.

Courfeyrac woke up as Combeferre was shifting out of bed. His arms had wrapped around the other man and he had essentially cuddled into him. Oops. Courfeyrac managed to pull his arm off of Ferre without hurting himself, and he offered a tiny apologetic smile. “Sorry.” He mumbled, and he could feel the blush in his cheeks. 

Combeferre gave him a smile. “I didn't mind,” he said quietly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He found his phone—on the bedside table, of  _ course _ he put it there—and then he fell back to where he had been lying down. “I just wanted to make sure I didn't sleep through anything. I didn't wake you up, did I?” He would feel awful if he did. He'd feel awful even if Courf denied it, probably. Ferre didn't dare look over at him, though. Not like this. Not with messy curls and sleepy eyes and a lazy grin. That was too much.

He decided to check Twitter. Maybe Enjolras was being too over-the-top on there. Maybe that would be funny and distracting all at the same time.

Courfeyrac took Combeferre's words as permission to cuddle, and as soon as Ferre way lying down again, he curled into the other man sleepily. “You know Ferre . . . I think I love you.” He said, looking up at him. “Like, really. Not just like how I love Enjolras.” He paused. “It's OK if you don't feel the same. I'm clingy and needy and I'm not sure I'd date me either.” His words were spaced out, paused at intervals, and sometimes slurred with sleep. But they were true. 

Combeferre nearly dropped his phone. He tried to breathe, actually breathe, take time to think about what he wanted to say. “I—Okay, first of all, you are  _ not _ too clingy or needy. Just. Please understand that.”  _ Breathe. _ “And second, I…. I think I love you, too.” It came out in a whisper, rushed, the words all running into each other, but it was finally out there, and Courfeyrac felt the same. At least, half-asleep Courfeyrac felt the same. Ferre would always take that over nothing, though.

Courfeyrac beamed, as much as he could in his partially awake state. “Good. I was scared you were gonna hate me.” He placed his hand on Combeferre's chest, right where his heart was. “But I am needy. And clingy. I can prove it. I  _ need  _ you to be my boyfriend.” He blinked happily at his pun, looking at Ferre quizzically. 

Combeferre laughed and put his hand over Courfeyrac’s, lacing their fingers together. “You know I can't say no to you,” he said.

Courfeyrac snuggled closer to Ferre, or as close as he could without twisting his hips and hurting himself. He thought he was the happiest man in the world right at that moment. He had finally owned up to his feelings, and  _ Ferre felt the same!  _ Courfeyrac would have jumped for joy if he had been able to. As it was he settled for a content sigh, squeezing Combeferre's hand. “I love you, Combeferre.” He said softly.

Combeferre grinned and sighed, tracing circles in Courf’s hand with his thumb. “And I love you, Courfeyrac.” 

Courfeyrac brought his other arm to drape over Ferre and was truly happy for the first time since the rally. For this, he would endure a thousand stab wounds. Absently he played with Combeferre's shirt. “I maintain that I am clingy and needy though. How many places have you carried me? How many times have I cried?” He just wanted to make sure Ferre really didn't mind. He would be heartbroken, but less so now than if he found out later. 

Combeferre sighed. “I know you, Courfeyrac. You keep forgetting that. I don't think you can talk me out of this so easily.”

“I don't want to talk you out of this I just want to make sure you aren't just being nice because I'm sick.” Courfeyrac said, using the hand not occupied with Combeferre's hand to trace patterns on Combeferre's skin.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Combeferre assured. “I promise I'm not being nice because you’re sick. If anything I’ll be more adamant that you need food and water. Now you wouldn't dare fight me on that, would you?” He kept his voice light, teasing, but he was only half joking. Two days with little to no water at all. That couldn't be healthy. “If you’ll let me get up, I have Gatorade in the fridge I’m not going to drink. Try some of that, at least. Okay?”

Courfeyrac groaned. “Remember what happened yesterday when I ate?” He asked, but he pulled his arms away from Ferre so the other could get up. 

Combeferre sat up and ruffled his hair, still half asleep. “Yeah, yeah. But if you had to eat something, what would it be?”

Courfeyrac groaned again and covered his eyes with his arms. “Popsicles.” He said after a beat, because popsicles basically turned into liquid when you are them anyways. 

Combeferre laughed and got up, finding a sweatshirt somewhere in the room to pull over his head. “It’s freezing outside. You’re sure?”

“Well, I don't want to chew things.” Courfeyrac said firmly. 

“I’ll just get you Gatorade and Tylenol. Because I doubt you’re actually as okay as you look.” Ferre left the room, and as soon as he was out of sight, he let himself grin. He jumped and spun around, cheering silently to himself.  _ Finally _ . It had taken long enough. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been waiting for this, for Courf to say he loved him— _ he loves me _ —but Combeferre had only come to the conclusion that he was hopelessly in love three days ago. Two days ago? A few days ago.

He made it to the kitchen and instantly forgot why he left in the first place. Typical. In any case, he could sit at the counter and think for a second. Not about Courfeyrac, but about what he needed. He wouldn't get distracted by those eyes, those curls, that smile….

Gatorade and pills. Right. Of course that's what he left to get.

When he made his way back to Courfeyrac, his boyfriend (he would never stop smiling at that phrase), he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sit up or something. At least a little bit.”

As soon as Combeferre was gone Courfeyrac grinned like an idiot. Combeferre was his  _ boyfriend!  _ He would have laughed but laughter was very painful. He settled for wrapping his arms around himself. He couldn't wait till he could actually take Combeferre on dates and do real boyfriend things like make out. 

When Combeferre came back, Courfeyrac forced himself to prop himself up on his elbows with a bit of a wince. His brain had been sending out so many excited signals that he had forgotten about the pain, but it had come back. 

Combeferre noticed the wince and frowned. “As soon as you think you can eat, you tell me. Yes?”

“Yes Ferre.” Courfeyrac said with a sigh. He wasn't sure he would ever want to eat again, but he didn't tell Combeferre that. 

Combeferre lied back down and nudged Courf's arm. “Take your pills. Finish that Gatorade within, like, an hour. Give or take,” he added. “And then keep drinking water. If you want something with flavor, I can run to the store and get something. Okay?” He paused for a second. “Oh, do you want ice? We could do that too, if you think it helps with pain.” Of course it helped with pain; it also helped with the swelling Combeferre knew he would see if Courf got out of bed. But he didn't say any of that. Make Courf think he had a choice; that seemed to be working for the time being.

Courfeyrac swallowed the pills with a sip of the Gatorade. Then he took two more sips because  _ maybe  _ he was a  _ little  _ dehydrated. “Yes to the ice.” He mumbled. It did help. “I can get it.” He didn't want to make Ferre get up again, so he started trying to push himself up. 

Combeferre rolled his eyes and put a hand on Courfeyrac’s chest, keeping him down. “You’re going to stay here. I’ll get it. I’ve got nothing to do until work calls me in or until noon. Whichever comes first. Got that?”

Letting Ferre keep him in bed was a very nice proposition and Courfeyrac only fought him for a moment. “Yes Ferre. I was just trying to help.” 

_ You can help by not being stupid. _ Combeferre smiled. “I know. But this is my job. Okay? I think I can handle walking to the kitchen.”

He didn't wait for Courfeyrac’s reply, leaving and coming back to put the ice on Courf’s stomach. “Well, I can see why it hurts so bad,” he muttered, lightly running his fingers over the swollen areas not covered by the ice. “Just… don't get up today. Stay here. Don't move. No, don't give me that look, Courf; I'm serious. I’ll tie you down if I have to.”

“Don't you think you should at least buy me dinner first?” Courfeyrac asked, his voice laced with humor. “I didn't know you were so kinky.” He winked at Ferre before becoming serious. “Is it . . . Is it bad?” He asked quietly, concern coloring his voice. 

Combeferre rolled his eyes, and then he sighed. “No. It’s just really swollen. It should go down in a couple of days, but we’ll keep an eye on it. It's not infected, at least. I’d say you’re almost in the clear from that.” He ran his fingers through Courf’s hair again. “I really like your hair,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Courfeyrac. He blinked himself back to reality and coughed. “I have to go get ready for work so I can just leave when I have to. It’s a shorter shift this time, just a few hours, but I still have to show up. Anything else you need right now?”

“You should call them and tell them you're in love so you can't show up.” Courfeyrac said matter-of-factly. Combeferre's fingers tangling in his hair was a very nice feeling, but it made him conscious of the fact that he hadn't washed his hair in three days. “I'm fine.” He said. He hoped that Enjolras wouldn't come home while Ferre was gone. 

“You know I can't do that.” Combeferre chuckled and shook his head. “You can text while I’m gone. Now that you’re refusing narcotics, I’m guessing you’re okay to do that, at least? It’s a Tuesday; we shouldn't have too many people. Well, no more than normal,” he amended. There were always too many people there. He never understood how anybody could be as stupid as ninety-five percent of his patients. “Point is, I’ll still talk to you when I can, okay?”

“I'm not refusing them I'm refusing to eat, and you are refusing to give them to me. But yes, I think I can probably text.” Courfeyrac hadn't even seen his phone in ages. He wondered what had happened to it. “I'm going to put the little heart emoji next to your name.” 

“I would hope you are. It's not official until we’re disgustingly cute.” Combeferre finally stood up. “You threw up because you ate. There is no way you’ll be taking those narcotics without a little bit of food. Okay, Courfeyrac?” He saw Courf’s phone on the dresser and tossed it over to him. “There. I’m going to go shower.”

Courfeyrac immediately added the emoji. “OK we're official.” He said happily. He made puppy eyes at Ferre. “Why do the good drugs have to require food?” He asked with a pout. “I'm nauseous because I'm in pain, and I'm in pain because I can't take the drugs, and I can't take the drugs because I'm nauseous. This seems silly.” 

Combeferre leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Okay. But the drugs are full of chemicals that upset your stomach if it’s empty. Food dulls that effect of the chemicals while getting the drugs into your bloodstream a little bit nicer.” He grinned. “Good try, though. You’re cute when you’re trying to be smart.” At that, he left to get ready.

“I am smart!” Courfeyrac protested, but Combeferre was gone. He turned to his phone to see what he had missed in the past three days, and to update his relationship status.

Combeferre, once again, was ready in record time. He got an apple and toast for breakfast and stalled by the fridge before grabbing a popsicle for the heck of it. Knowing Courf, he’d just make a mess, but he’d get over it eventually.

“I’m leaving in ten,” he said when he walked by Courf’s room. He tossed him the popsicle with a smile. “Here. Eat this.”

Courfeyrac giggled and then remembered that it hurt to do that. He fumbled with the wrapper and finally got it open. He licked at the treat, content to have something to eat that wasn't going to make him sick. “Thanks Ferre.” 

Anytime. Anything else you need? You’re sure you won't try to get up unless it's  _ absolutely  _ necessary?”

“I promise. I'll just try to go back to sleep anyways. Maybe I can sleep off the pain.” 

“Maybe.” Combeferre checked his watch. “I’ll be back in six hours, okay? Seven at the latest. Call Joly if you can't get a hold of me.”

“I don't believe you. You're always late.” Courfeyrac teased. “I will though. And I will not call Enjolras, because he is  _ not  _ nice.” Courfeyrac sulked a little, still bitter about his mistreatment the day before.

Ferre felt guilty at the accusation but forced a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. And I’m sure Enj had a reason. It probably wasn't a good reason. But he doesn't do things just to be a terrible person. You know that.” He glanced over Courf one last time before sighing. “Okay. I really have to go. Don't be an idiot.” At that, he was gone.

Courfeyrac stared forlornly after Combeferre and then went back to his phone until he fell into a fitful sleep. 


	8. The Lesser of Two Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre comes home to find Courfeyrac so much worse than he left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sorry for the delay, midterms are murder. We'll get back to our regular schedule now.

Combeferre wasn’t exhausted when he got home. That was a first. For the most part, he was excited to get home. Not much had happened, which was strange--it was almost as if people had common sense now--but he still stayed for his entire shift and made it home by six-thirty.

“Courf, you’re awake?” Combeferre called, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up.

Courfeyrac heard Ferre come home and felt his heart rate pick up.  _ His boyfriend was home!  _ He'd slept most of the day on and off, stuck in a weird kind of limbo because he couldn't get up but he didn't have anything to knock him out. He'd managed to finish the Gatorade and Enjolras had stopped home long enough to give him a bottle of water. He hadn't left the bed. “Yeah.” He replied from his bedroom, his voice still weak. 

Combeferre grabbed an apple from the kitchen and went to Courf’s bedroom. “Hey. You’re doing okay?” He sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled over at Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac smiled but shook his head. “It hurts. I'll eat crackers or something if it means I can take narcotics.” 

Combeferre’s smile fell. “Yeah, no, I can get some crackers for you. Two seconds, okay?” He ran off to find some saltines in the cupboard, and then he got one of the narcotics and a glass of water. That couldn’t be good. Earlier, Courfeyrac would have died before he ate anything. Ferre had to take a minute to keep himself from looking too worried before he went back to his boyfriend-- _ boyfriend _ \--and gave him the crackers. “Eat as many as you’d like. I mean, I’m giving you a two cracker minimum for this. But after that, eat what you want.”

Courfeyrac nodded shakily and managed to eat the two required crackers in small bites. He wasn't hungry, but it hurt more than it ever had. He looked at Ferre with pleading eyes, begging for relief. 

Combeferre sighed. “It’ll kick in after half an hour, okay? Want some ice? Water? Anything else before you’re out for the count?”

Courfeyrac felt a tear make its way down his face. “Please just make it stop.” 

“Half an hour,” Combeferre promised softly, brushing the tear away. He lied down next to Courf and watched him carefully for a moment, letting him cry. There was nothing he could say. He knew that by now. It would hurt like hell, and then it would get better for the time being. That, or he’d sleep through it. It was always one or the other with this medication.

Courfeyrac's tears kept falling, but he gradually felt the drugs taking effect and slowly the pain faded. “Ferre this can't go on.” He muttered when the pain had faded enough that he could string a sentence together.

“Hush now,” Combeferre murmured. “Just go to sleep, Courfeyrac. It’ll start getting better soon. I promise.”

“No I mean like for real Ferre. I can’t deal with this anymore.” Courfeyrac felt helpless and hopeless and like he was falling, falling, falling and he would never stop. The pain, the nightmares, it was all an endless spiral down. He didn’t hear Combeferre’s response though, because he had fallen fast asleep. 


	9. Save Me From This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac wakes up from a nightmare and manages to wake Combeferre up too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is a short one - and the second chapter of the day (because I can't justify calling this a proper update) Enjoy!

Courfeyrac slept until midnight, at which point he woke up screaming. The nightmare had been terrible. He remembered it - remembered the fear he felt. He was curled up next to Combeferre, which was some comfort, but also . . . Ferre wasn’t going to want to stay, not if Courfeyrac kept waking up screaming. He tried to calm his breathing, clear his head, but the images that had danced around his mind as he slept remained.

Combeferre woke up a little slower, not really aware that Courfeyrac was awake as well until he noticed Courf’s trembling next to him. He hugged him a little closer and exhaled. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “You’re okay.” Lies as far as he was aware, but he would say anything to get Courf to relax, to get the sleep he needed. Ferre looked over at the clock. 12:05. He had to be up in four hours, anyways.

“Sorry for waking you.” Courfeyrac muttered. “It was just a nightmare . . . It just felt so real.” He slowly felt his trembling cease and he sighed softly. 

“Hey. I don't care that you woke me up. I'm kind of happy you did.” Ferre closed his eyes. “I would expect so. You’ve had a rough couple of days.”

“You need your sleep though, Ferre. I really can't justify waking you up just because I had a bad dream.” Courfeyrac can feel the guilt weighing heavily on his chest.

“Courfeyrac, look at me. Please.” Combeferre reminded himself to breathe. “I never want you to think that you can't wake me up. Please don't think that. I want to make sure you’re okay, and if that means waking me up because you’re screaming, then so be it. That’s perfectly justified. I can have an extra cup of coffee in the morning if I have to. Got that?”

Courfeyrac opened his eyes to meet Ferre's. “Yeah. I've got it. I'm still sorry though. I don't want to worry you. I love you.” He wrapped an arm around Combeferre. “I'm alright now. Go back to sleep.” The narcotics hadn't worn off yet and with the terror gone Courfeyrac could feel his eyes sliding shut.

Combeferre smiled and kissed Courfeyrac’s forehead. “Love you, too.”

Courfeyrac snuggled into the touch as he fell asleep, feeling safe in Combeferre's arms. 


	10. PT(SD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac's fear of doctors translates into a fear of physical therapists, who happen to work in the hospital.

Courfeyrac stuck his head under the pillow. “I don't want to go!” He protested, his voice muffled by the layers of fabric. Combeferre was trying to drag him to physical therapy, something Courfeyrac would love to avoid. The therapist's office was in the hospital. He didn't want to go.

“You could just. I dunno. Not move the rest of your life.” Combeferre sighed and crossed his arms. “Courfeyrac. My love. My moon and stars. We’re going to be late.”

“Good.” Courfeyrac replied definitely. “If we're later they'll see someone else and then I won't have to go.” Courfeyrac would never admit it to Ferre, but he was scared.

“No.” Combeferre opened his mouth to continue, but then he shook his head. _Breathe._ “I know your PT. She can just tell me what to do. It might last longer here, though. If you want to get it over with, let’s just go and we can get it over with. Got that?”

Courfeyrac groaned. “Don't wanna go to the hospital. I don't _like_ hospitals Ferre!” He brought his head out from under the pillow so he could properly glare at his boyfriend.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “You act like I haven’t ever talked to you before. I’m _wounded_ , Courf.” He smiled. “I’ll be right there. They won’t hurt you. Promise.”

“Fine. But if they do I'm not going back.” Courfeyrac gingerly climbed out of bed.

Combeferre sighed, relieved he didn’t have to fight. “Here. Let’s get your jacket.” He held his hand out, only half expecting Courf to take it.

Courfeyrac glared but took Combeferre's hand.

Ferre pulled his boyfriend along behind him, sometimes glancing back to see if he was actually okay. Besides the generic _I hate everything_ scowl, Courfeyrac seemed to be fine. He'd be fine. “Jacket on. Or do you need help with that, too?”

Courfeyrac grumbled and pulled at the jacket, trying to hide the fact that maybe he did need help because it was a _little_ hard to lift his arms up all the way.

Combeferre had to keep from laughing as Courf struggled, but he didn’t offer help again. “Okay, let’s go. If you suffer too much, you can blame me. Deal?”

“Don't laugh at me!” Courfeyrac protested. “I have done _nothing_ to deserve this!” He followed Combeferre to his car, sulking.

Ferre bit back more laughter and kissed Courf’s cheek. “You’re adorable,” he murmured, walking around the car to the driver’s side. “And you’ll be fine.”

Combeferre was right. For the most part, it was fine. Courfeyrac was in pain (no surprise there) but it was only because of the injury itself, not because of anything they were doing to him - “No Courfeyrac they aren’t going to cut you open” - and they were home within a few hours.

Courfeyrac went straight towards bed with a groan. “Being stuck in bed for a week _kills_ your muscle tone, Ferre.” He said with an exhausted sigh.

Combeferre hugged him from behind and held him there. “Yeah, yeah, you and your muscle tone. As if you’re the only one who’s tired. Just stand here, I’m fine like this.”

Relaxing into Combeferre’s hug, Courfeyrac turned his head to kiss his cheek. “We can go to bed together?” He suggested. “I know, my bed isn’t the ideal spot for a date, but I can promise some good cuddling.”

“I’ll take cuddling,” Ferre mumbled. “Here, no, you can’t just…” He pressed their lips together for a second, just a second, before he grinned. “There.”

Courfeyrac gasped in surprise, his eyes going big. He broke into a grin, and then pressed his lips to Ferre’s, for longer this time. His mind was going crazy. _He was kissing Combeferre!_

Combeferre didn’t expect that second kiss, but he melted into it, turning Courf around to face him so he could absently tangle his fingers in his hair. “I love you,” he breathed, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you too.” Courfeyrac agreed, his arms wrapped around Combeferre’s waist. “We should definitely do this more often.” He said with a mischievous smirk.

“Yeah.” Ferre stole another kiss before he laughed. “I thought you said you were tired.”

Courfeyrac stifled a yawn. “Something about you just makes me feel alive.” He said with a grin. “Besides. I’d suffer far worse than exhaustion for you. Anything for you, Ferre. You only have to ask-” He yawned, for real this time.  

“I’m asking you to go to bed,” Combeferre said softly, brushing his fingers through Courf’s hair. “Please?”

“OK.” Courfeyrac didn’t find the proposal disagreeable. “You too. Come snuggle.” He climbed into his bed - their bed at this point, really - and tugged on Combeferre’s arm.

Combeferre laughed and hugged Courfeyrac tightly, hiding his face in his hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.” He bit back a yawn. “I love you to the moon and back, Courfeyrac.”

“. . . I love you to like, Pluto and back. At least.” He grinned sleepily, even though he knew Combeferre couldn’t see it. “Goodnight, Ferre.” His eyes slid shut and he fell asleep.

Combeferre felt Courf’s breathing slow, and he closed his eyes. _Relax. He’s right next to you. He’s okay. He’s alive. You did all you could._

He fell asleep soon enough, unaware of how he subconsciously held Courfeyrac a little closer than normal.


	11. In Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been Courfeyrac who was waking up because of nightmares, but suddenly, Combeferre wakes up from one.

Combeferre woke up trembling, his breathing quick, his heart pounding in his ears, but as he stared up at the ceiling, he couldn’t remember why. He had no idea why he wanted to scream, to cry, to curl up and hide from everything he could.

He felt the bed shift next to him, and he looked over to see Courfeyrac sleeping soundly, his face half-buried in his pillow. Combeferre smiled. He deserved a good night’s sleep.

The shrieking that echoed in his ears had him on edge again, almost worse than before. _He’s right next to you. He’s fine. Everything’s fine. He’s asleep next to you, he’s okay, and he remembers everything you did, how you had to hurt him so much, it’s really a miracle he loves you as much as he does._

Combeferre shook his head, trying to clear it, and he hid his face in the pillow when he started to cry. This hadn’t happened for a week. Five days. Whatever. But it never happened when he knew Courfeyrac was close by. _Why is it getting worse?_

Courfeyrac blinked his eyes open, confused as to why he had woken up. He hadn’t been having a nightmare - for once, he had simply been sleeping. As he woke up, he registered the sound of crying. Crying. Ferre! He rolled over and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend. “Combeferre what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

“I… no, I'm fine. I'm fine. I promise you, I’m okay.” Ferre smiled through his tears, wiping them away. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“It’s alright.” Courfeyrac moved closer, pressing up against Combeferre. “I don’t mind. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“It's nothing .” Combeferre took a deep breath, finally starting to calm down. “I promise I’m fine.”

“Then why are you crying? Nightmare?” Courfeyrac looked Combeferre dead in the eyes. “I know what that's like. Don’t lie to me. You promised.” He pulled Combeferre as close as he could.

“I… yeah. Nightmare. But it’s fine now.” Ferre hid in Courf’s hair again. “Please let it go, Courfeyrac. Please let it go.”

Courfeyrac frowned. “You wouldn’t let it go if it was me who was crying in the middle of the night.” He pointed out. “Just tell me what's bothering you, and then you’re going back to sleep, deal?”

Combeferre glared halfheartedly at the wall behind Courfeyrac as he felt more unshed tears burn at his eyes. “I hurt you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I hurt you, and I can't fix that, and I don't know what to do.”

“No, no Combeferre it’s ok. It’s alright you did what you had to do. You saved my life, and yeah, maybe it was scary. Maybe it’s still scary. But I still love you. You don’t have to fix anything.” Courfeyrac ran his hand through Combeferre’s hair, trying to sooth the other man.

Combeferre shook his head. “I… yeah. No, no, it's not okay. Stop making me think it's okay. Nothing about that should have happened.”

“Well, it did, so there isn’t any changing that. But really, Combeferre. I’m glad you did, because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here to be in love with you.” Courfeyrac pressed a kiss to Ferre’s collarbone gently.

Combeferre sighed, forcing himself to relax a little bit. “I… Courf, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Now, is that all that’s bothering you?” It wasn’t like Ferre to get like this, and Courfeyrac knew it. Something else was up. It was just a matter of finding out what.

“I think so. Yeah.” Combeferre closed his eyes, trying to fake sleep even though he knew he wasn't calm enough to try and sleep through the rest of the night. He was exhausted physically, but mentally he wanted to talk and talk and cry as his thoughts ran in circles and he couldn't stop them.

Courfeyrac hummed and ran his fingers through Combeferre’s hair again. “Hey Ferre. Did you take your meds today?” He asked lightly. He’d seen Combeferre like this exactly once before - when the other had forgotten to take the drugs that helped with his depression.

Combeferre groaned and shook his head. “Not for two days,” he mumbled. “ _Fuck_ , I messed up.” He wouldn’t be back to normal for another day at least, and that was if he took a pill now. He wasn’t about to get up and do that, not if he planned on taking it in the morning already. “I’m sorry, Courf.”

“Shhh it’s alright. Don’t apologise to me. You wanna take it now? Or wait till morning?” Courfeyrac sighed internally but kept his voice light. This was really bad. Combeferre couldn’t go to work tomorrow, and maybe not the day after either.

“I have to call work,” Combeferre whimpered. “I can’t… I can’t work. Not like this. I just… And it’s not worth taking now if I won’t be going anywhere tomorrow. Right? Is that normal logic? I can’t even think right anymore, Courf, this is so messed up.”

“Yes, yes that's normal logic. You’re alright Ferre. You’ll call the hospital tomorrow and tell them you’re sick, and then I’ll take care of you and it’ll be ok.” Courfeyrac kissed Combeferre’s cheek and hugged him tighter. “It’s going to be alright I promise.”

“No, they need me at the crack of dawn.” Combeferre reached around for his phone so he could at least text somebody. A friend of his he knew had the next couple of days off. Easy enough, but the guilt was getting worse. “I know it’ll be okay,” he admitted. “I mean, I do know that. You know when you know things? And then they never click? Yeah. I know that.”

“Well, you’re right, it is going to be OK. But it’s also alright if you can’t believe that right now.” Courfeyrac ran his hand soothingly over Combeferre. “You’re going to get your meds in the morning, and it might be rough for a day or two, but then things will go right back to normal. Deal?”

Combeferre waited for a text back - a confirmation, thank God - and he curled up with Courfeyrac again. “Yeah,” he said, taking Courf’s hand and squeezing it. “Deal.”

Courfeyrac smiled, glad that Combeferre seemed calmer now. “Good. Now go back to sleep. You need your rest.”

Combeferre nodded and closed his eyes. It took a while, a lot longer than he would have liked, but he did fall asleep before four in the morning. That had to count for


	12. Kissing is Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac and Combeferre talk about their relationship a little more, and Combeferre takes his meds with a lot less complaining than Courfeyrac ever did.

Neither of them had to be anywhere early, with Combeferre on a sick day and Courfeyrac on medical leave, so they slept in. Courfeyrac woke up around 11, the sunlight that came through his window hitting his face as he rolled over and yawned. Combeferre was still asleep - good - and Courfeyrac didn’t plan to wake him. In fact, if he could sleep until the chemicals in his brain balanced out, that would be great.

Courfeyrac retrieved his phone and started scrolling through social media, still half asleep, and content to let time pass.

Combeferre woke up feeling worse than before, but then he saw Courfeyrac, lazily scrolling on his phone, and he had to smile. “Good morning,” he murmured, kissing his cheek and watching what he was doing. “Please don’t tell me that’s the latest meme. I was hardly used to the last one.”

“I like this meme!” Courfeyrac protested, turning to kiss back. “How do you feel? You need to take your meds.” He put his phone down and made his way into the kitchen (he wasn’t as fast as Ferre yet, but he wasn’t crawling) and returned with a bottle of water and the bottle of pills. “Here.” Courfeyrac sat back down on the bed and pressed a kiss to Combeferre’s forehead.

Combeferre smiled slightly at the kiss and propped himself up enough to swallow a pill, and then he pulled the blankets up and over his head. “Question: do I eat or do I suffer?”

“Oh my goodness I forgot you need to eat.” Courfeyrac swore and disappeared back into the kitchen to find a granola bar, which he presented to Combeferre with a half-bow.

Combeferre rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, taking the granola bar and breaking it into bite-sized pieces as he ate. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do! I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job. Plus, I can’t carry you so you aren’t allowed to get sick. “ Courfeyrac kissed Combeferre’s nose. “I love you. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Combeferre scrunched his nose at the kiss and chuckled, leaving half of the granola bar so he could lie down properly again. “If you’re gonna kiss me, kiss me for real,” he said, only half paying attention to what he was saying.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “OK.” He crawled onto the bed and straddled Ferre, pressing his lips to the other man’s and kissing him deeply, tangling his fingers in Combeferre’s curls.

Combeferre kissed him back, letting his hands wander when he wasn’t exactly sure where to put them, and he ended up pushing Courfeyrac back so he could breathe. “You… baby, your morning breath is the worst,” he said with a smirk.

“Yours is no better.” Courfeyrac replied with a grin. “But if you don’t like how my mouth tastes, there are other parts of me that I’m sure taste much better.”

Combeferre blushed and stared at him for a minute. “I… Courf, _no_. We _literally_ just kissed each other yesterday, and - and - _no_ ,” he repeated.

“Sorry.” Courfeyrac flushed and climbed off of Combeferre, laying down next to him. “I should have asked first.” He said, not meeting Ferre’s eyes.

Ferre kissed him lightly, hardly letting their lips touch, but most of that was due to his lack of motivation to actually move. “Kissing is good,” he said. “Kissing is really good. And for the record, that was your version of asking, as far as I’m concerned. Don’t apologize for that.”

Courfeyrac perked up. “OK.” He smiled softly. “I agree. Kissing is good.” He wrapped Combeferre in another hug. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Courfeyrac.” He smiled at his boyfriend and played with his hair. “More than the sun and the moon and the stars.”

“You love space a lot.” Courfeyrac remarked, “It is an honor to be loved more than space.”

“As it should be. I’ll get more creative, if you want. Um, I love you more than NASA? I’ll think about it.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “I can’t expect you to love me more than NASA - I know how much you love NASA.” He considered for a moment. “I love you more than glitter.”

“That’s the overstatement of the century,” Combeferre chuckled. “I’m okay with second place, darling.”

“No, no, truly! If I had to chose only one, I would chose you. Every time. Now, if I had my way . . . you, covered in glitter.”

Combeferre laughed. “If you’re lucky,” he allowed, kissing him again. “Then I get to spend hours painting constellations on you. It’s only fair.”

“I am always lucky when it comes to you.” Courfeyrac stated firmly. “But yes, I agree. That is fair, and I’d be more than happy to allow it. You just tell me when.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Combeferre promised. “Now let me sleep. You can, I don’t know, live a life or something. I’ll just be sleeping. It’s not that interesting.”

“You are always interesting, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac promised. “But I will leave you be. Perhaps I’ll go paint the living room pink.” He kissed his boyfriend’s forehead. “Rest well, Combeferre. Call if you need me.”

“Mess with the living room and I’ll _never_ let you anywhere near me,” Combeferre mumbled. “I love you.”

“Well.” Courfeyrac blinked. “I’ll just go watch _Glee_ then.” He ran his hand down Combeferre’s arm with a smile. “I love you too.” And then he left, turning off the light and swinging the door most of the way shut.

Combeferre woke up at half past one. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling the headboard, and he sighed. He didn’t want to shout for Courfeyrac. Not that he was needed or anything. Ferre just felt uneasy, being left alone.

It took five minutes to convince himself to sit up and another ten to properly get out of bed. He took a blanket with him, draped over his shoulders, and he shuffled over to where Courfeyrac was on the couch. He sat down and snuggled up next to him. “You’re my new pillow. This isn’t up for debate.”

“As long as you don’t lay on my stomach, that’s fine.” Courfeyrac said, instantly tangling his fingers in Combeferre’s hair. “How was your nap? Feeling any better?”

“Much better.” Combeferre all but melted at the feeling of Courf playing with his hair. “What are we watching?”

“I finished season four of _Glee_ so I thought that maybe I’d brush up on my _Star Trek_. I think this is the second season of the original series?” Courfeyrac shrugged. It was funny, how Combeferre drove all other thoughts out of his head.

“Cool.” Combeferre closed his eyes and grinned, happy to be right where he was, all bundled up on the couch with his boyfriend. “We should marathon _Star Wars_ sometime.”

“We can do that right now if you want. I don’t know what’s going on in this episode anyways.” Courfeyrac smiled and started tracing Combeferre’s arm with the hand not playing with his hair. “Cozy? You need anything?”

“I’m good.” Combeferre was tempted to pout when he realized Courf would have to get up, and he sighed. “I’ll switch it, if you want.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” He pushed Combeferre in the other direction so he would fall onto the couch and went to switch the DVDs. He was back on the couch and pulling Ferre back to him before the opening crawl even began.

Ferre smiled and pulled Courfeyrac’s arm until it was around his shoulders. “I’m going to be lazy today,” he mumbled. “Probably not intentionally. So, um, I’m sorry. In advance.”

“Combeferre that is _fine_.” Courfeyrac said smiling at him. “You deserve it. Plus, i’ve nothing better to do than take care of you. And I’ve no greater pleasure.”

Combeferre kissed his cheek and settled in to watch the movie. “You’re too good to me, Courf.”

“You did the same for me.” Courfeyrac mumbled softly, “I’m always going to spoil you whenever I can. Get used to it.”

“Fine, fine.” Combeferre laughed. “Spoil me, then. I’m too tired to fight you.”

“Happily.” Courfeyrac replied. “But first, _Star Wars_ , yes? And then I’ll make dinner later. Anything you want.”

“Too good to me,” Combeferre repeated quietly. “I'm okay with that.”

Courfeyrac smiled and stroked his hair. “I like being good to you. It's my favorite thing to do.”

“We need to find you better hobbies.”

“I have _great_ hobbies!” Courfeyrac protested, pretending he was offended.

“Yeah, no, spoiling your boyfriend doesn't count. Try again.” Combeferre was grinning though, biting back laughter.

“What about doing politics with Enj. That's gotta count for something, right?” Courfeyrac is so happy that Ferre has cheered up.

“Yeah, okay, I guess that counts.” Ferre shifted around so he could kiss Courfeyrac, but he hesitated for a second before he curled up again.

Courfeyrac regarded Combeferre carefully. “Are you alright?” He asked, seeing the hesitation.

“Yeah. I’m alright.” Ferre smiled up at Courfeyrac, doing his best to seem convincing, and he hugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Of course I’m alright.”

“That's bull and you know it.” Courfeyrac said with a soft chuckle. “You need anything?”

“No. I’m okay. Thank you.” Combeferre rested his head on Courf’s shoulder. “Just let me watch the movie.”

“Alright Ferre. Just watch the movie.” Courfeyrac pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Combeferre had no intentions to watch the movie. He wanted to sleep this off. It wasn’t healthy, probably, more than likely, but he sighed and gave up on worrying. He could worry when he found the energy.


	13. Comfort Food and Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afternoon of Combeferre's sick day goes much better than the morning, and Courfeyrac turns out to be an excellent cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but here is the next chapter!

Eventually, they had both dozed off and slept through the rest of the afternoon. Courfeyrac had been the first to wake up, his eyes fluttering open softly. He glanced at Combeferre, still sound asleep, and smiled to himself. 

Stretching the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Ferre, Courfeyrac’s eyes traveled around the room. His mind wandered, eventually finding its way back to what Combeferre had said the night before. Courfeyrac didn’t like to think about what had happened that day at the rally. He really didn’t like to think about it. But it was bothering Combeferre, so they were going to have to talk about it eventually. The love of his life wasn’t allowed to torment himself over that. Courfeyrac loved him anyways, nightmares or no. 

But that could wait until Combeferre was better. Hell. It could wait forever as far as Courfeyrac was concerned. 

Combeferre woke up slowly, not wanting to open his eyes. He didn’t want to move. He did feel Courfeyrac move, though, and he sighed. “What time is it?”

“Mmm, five?” Courfeyrac glanced at the clock. “Do you want me to make dinner now?” He raised an eyebrow at his very rumpled looking boyfriend. 

“If you want.” He really wasn’t hungry at all, and if he was he still wouldn’t eat, but he remembered how he fought with Courf over food earlier in the week. He didn’t want to give him any ammunition to use on him later on. “Steak and lobster,” he mumbled, grinning to show he was joking.

“Alright.” Courfeyrac said, grinning back. He really was an excellent cook, his parents having thought their son needed a hobby other than political activism and sent him to cooking school one summer. It had turned out that Courfeyrac had a knack for it, but only the fancy stuff. He couldn’t microwave pizza to save his life. “If you think you can keep it down, I’ll make it. Anything you want.”  

“Something easy. Comfort food,” Combeferre suggested. “Surprise me.”

“I can do comfort food.” Courfeyrac said happily. “Alright. I’ll be back in . . .” He paused and did some math in his head, “an hour, top. You go back to sleep.” He shifted Combeferre away from him and stood, taking the couch’s throw pillows and tucking them around Combeferre. “Comfortable?” 

“Yeah,” Combeferre laughed. “I’m comfortable. Thanks, Courf.”

“Good. I’ll be back soon, OK?” Courfeyrac kissed Ferre’s head one more time and then retreated to the kitchen to dig out the fryer. 

True to his word, it took Courfeyrac an hour to make dinner. He returned to the living room with two plates of fried chicken, steamed asparagus, hush puppies, and potato salad. He dragged the coffee table closer and set Ferre’s plate in front of him. Gently, he shook Ferre’s shoulder to wake him up. 

Ferre blinked his eyes open and sat up, laughing when he saw the plate of food in front of him. “You’re the best,” he said, grinning over at Courfeyrac. “Seriously. What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, for starters you saved my life.” Courfeyrac said with an impish grin. “Secondly, you batted those marvelous lashes and I just . . . fell in love. Eat! Please, Ferre, eat. It’ll help.” 

“You forgot my biscuits and gravy,” Combeferre teased, taking a bite of chicken despite his stomach’s protesting. As soon as he started eating, though, he realized he was starving. “Amazing as always, Courfeyrac.”

“Why thank you. Do you want more? I made plenty.” Courfeyrac was really glad to see Ferre eat, and he could feel his worry fade a little. 

“I might. Let me finish this first, and I’ll let you know.” Ferre grinned. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Courfeyrac grinned back. “Oh! I made dessert too, if you want it. Strawberry shortcake.” 

“It’s as if you’ve known me forever.” Combeferre let himself laugh. “We should do something after dinner. While I’m motivated to do things.”

“Combeferre we want to college together.” Courfeyrac pointed out. “What would you like to do? No sports please. I’m not up to that.” 

Combeferre shrugged. “I dunno. Video games? A walk around the block? Something besides sleeping; I’ve done enough of that.” As he spoke, he realized he wouldn’t actually mind more sleep, but he shook his head. He’d had enough.

“A walk sounds nice.” Courfeyrac admitted. He hadn’t left the house much except for therapy and he was a little restless. 

“Alright. A walk it is. I’ll have to actually get dressed, though.” Combeferre sighed and sat up a little straighter. “You know how warm it is outside?”

Courfeyrac was still in his pajama pants and the shirt he had thrown on. “No. I need to get dressed too. Hang on a sec . . .” He grabbed his phone and checked the weather. “It’s nice. Like, sixty degrees. The sun is gonna set in an hour.” 

“Jeans with a sweatshirt?” Ferre suggested, running a hand through his hair.

“Sounds about right.” Courfeyrac said with a smile, offering Ferre a hand to help him stand. “Come on sleepy head.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Ferre grumbled, taking Courf’s hand and kissing his cheek.

“Well if you’d prefer I can call you Handsome Mc’handsome face. Courfeyrac said, managing to keep his expression serious. 

“Do that and I might actually break up with you.” Ferre smiled though, not dropping Courf’s hand.

“Alright fine. What about honey-buns?” Courfeyrac giggled. 

“I don’t get to argue about this?” Ferre laughed. “Fine. I’ll accept that. It could be a lot worse.”

“No, you don't get to argue.” Courfeyrac said, tugging Ferre to his bedroom. “You should like, move in with me. The rest of the way.” 

“Into your room?” Combeferre looked around. “I mean, unless you let me leave, I’ll have to wear your jeans.”

“They'll be too short. Fine. Go get your pants. But you should move some of your stuff in here. You sleep here anyways.” Courfeyrac pushed him towards the door. “Go find some clothes.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Combeferre pulled Courfeyrac in for a quick kiss before he left to change.

Courfeyrac laughed and went to find himself clothes, his lips burning from where they had touched Combeferre’s.

Combeferre had real clothes on in record time, checking his hair in the mirror before he threw his pajamas in the general direction of the hamper. He looked surprisingly fine. Normal, even. Maybe a little bit out of it, but other than that, he was fine. That was good to know.

Courfeyrac was able to dress himself as long as he wore loose shirts that weren't hard to pull over his head. He dressed and ran his comb through his wild curls, waiting for Ferre. 

Combeferre found Courfeyrac and took his hand, half-pulling him to the door. “Okay?” he asked, more as a force of habit than anything.

“Yeah. Just a little sore. How are you doing?” Courfeyrac let Combeferre pull him along, content. 

Combeferre shrugged. “Could be better. Could be worse. You’re sure you’re okay to walk around?”

“Yeah. No running though, OK?” Courfeyrac gave him a lopsided smile. 

“That’s fair.” Combeferre laughed. “I didn’t expect to. If you need a minute, we can take a minute. I’m okay with that.”

“OK, I’ll keep you in the loop.” Courfeyrac grinned again and tugged Ferre out the door.

It really was nice outside, with the sun about to dip below the horizon. There wasn’t too much wind, and the temperature reflected that. Combeferre wished he did this more often. It was better than locking himself up at work or even in his room.

They got back home in one piece, something Ferre didn’t expect from Courfeyrac, but he was smiling, so that had to count for something.

Courfeyrac pulled Combeferre towards their bedroom. “Nap time?” He asked. It’s not late but he was tired and Combeferre looked exhausted. 

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” Combeferre mumbled, checking the time on his phone. “It’s only seven.” As soon as Courf suggested it, though, he was more than ready to sleep. Everything felt heavier than normal. He was dragging his feet. He could really use some sleep.

Courfeyrac nodded to himself and led Ferre to the bed, going to fetch pajamas for him. “Here, put these on. You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up.” 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Combeferre sighed, following along without much resistance. “How much are you going to fight me on this?”

“You’re going to bed or I won’t go to therapy tomorrow.” Courfeyrac said sweetly. “But if you go to sleep I won’t even complain.” 

Combeferre rolled his eyes and pulled Courfeyrac down next to him. “Fine, you win. But do I have to change? That requires  _ effort _ .” He was only half joking. Walking was nice, but for some reason, it was really tiring. He didn’t want to move.

“Do you need my help?” Courfeyrac asked with a smirk. “I’m more than happy to undress you.” 

Combeferre sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head. “No, I’ve got it,” he muttered, throwing it at Courf.

Courfeyrac laughed and took it to the hamper, muttering about grumpy boyfriends and undressing. 

Combeferre grinned and stepped out of his jeans so he could put on the pajama pants Courf had offered. He fell back so he was lying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Better?”

Courfeyrac was quick to rid himself of his clothes and find his pajamas, and the climbed into bed next to Ferre. “Much.” 

“Glad you’re happy.” Combeferre hugged Courfeyrac close and closed his eyes. “All this sleeping probably isn’t healthy for me,” he mumbled, more or less thinking out loud.

“I can attest to the fact that sleeping is  _ very  _ healthy.” Courfeyrac said. “It lets your body heal. And when you aren’t on leave you never get enough sleep. So this is good.” 

“Always proving me wrong,” Ferre grumbled. “How much you wanna bet I’ll still be like this tomorrow?”

“You’re not going to work if that’s what you want to know.” Courfeyrac said firmly. 

“No, I know. I was just asking.” If Combeferre cared at all, he’d be nervous, but he’d given up on that earlier in the day. “That’s fine.”

“Good, good. You’re stuck he with me. Oh no, how terrible.” Courfeyrac teasingly ran his hand down Combeferre’s spine. 

“Don’t you start.” Combeferre gave him a kiss. “You’re horrible.”

Courfeyrac wrinkled his nose. “I am not horrible! I’m wonderful! You’re just jealous because you don’t have you for a boyfriend, and I do.”  

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I should be  _ grateful _ for it.” Combeferre tangled his fingers in Courf’s hair and kissed him deeply, taking his time. “I love you. So much.”

Courfeyrac’s mind went blank at this kiss, but he kissed back, loving the feeling of Combeferre’s lips on his. When Ferre pulled away he felt a dazed look on his face. “I love you too.” 

“Now let me sleep. Apparently it’s good for me.”

“Yeah . . .” Courfeyrac stared at Ferre lovingly. 

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, love of my life.” Courfeyrac waited till Combeferre’s breathing slowed, and then he allowed his own eyes to fall shut. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not take any medical advice from this fic! We made like half of this up.


End file.
